Dynasty Book 1 Course of Earth
by C117
Summary: The life in Nerima is not different since the spoiled wedding between Ranma and Akane. But it soon will be, for the time of the Dragon Dynasty is drawing close...
1. Prolouge: In a town called Nerima

DYNASTY - BOOK I: COURSE OF EARTH

A short foreword

I just got to say this… I didn't really make this fanfiction, so I want to say sorry to the real author, Sydney Kyle, for uploading _his_ fanfiction here. However, since the site where this fanfiction were originally uploaded seems to have drawn its last breath, I thought it was okay to upload it here. But sometimes, I keep thinking; what if I, or anyone else, made a follow-up? Would that be alright? I sure hope so…

Sorry for the bad grammar (if it was bad, I mean)

C117

_A Ranma ½ Fanfiction_  
By Sydney Kyle

Prologue: In a Town Called Nerima

It was a place deep below the earth.

"The pig-girl...done...the snail-boy...done...the three-toed sloth boy...done...the fly-girl...done..."

He sat at a desk in a cramped candlelit room, crouched over a long piece of yellowed parchment.

"The moose-boy...done...the cat-girl...done..." he chanted softly. His writing reed moved across the paper, not touching the names in it that were written in gleaming green ink.

"The lion-boy...done...the bear-girl...done...ahh..."

The reed paused at the entries at the very bottom of the scroll. He gave a little chuckle as he made a slight gesture with the reed-pen.

The characters in green ink shimmered and vanished, as if by magic, until all the writing that remained on the manuscript were the five names at the end of the list.

"Five more, is it?"

After years and years of slumbering deep within the bowels of Japan, the time was finally at hand. It had been an excruciatingly long time, he admitted to himself—long enough for the Dynasty to begin preparations before it could reclaim the land that it had once ruled over. It would once again become the most powerful and the most feared monarchy of all, just as it had been during its time.

But before this could be accomplished, every last individual on this list would have to be disposed of first. The roster of names had grown considerably smaller as the years passed, as each of those unfortunate enough to be singled out by fate was relentlessly hunted down and eliminated.

And now, there were only five of them left in the world.

He grinned like a shark.

The Dynasty had been waiting for this a long, long time...

Reclining, he signaled at the messenger roaming restlessly outside his doorway and handed him the rolled-up scroll.

"Inform my Lord that the these are the last of our obstacles," he said. "Should he take care of them right away, then the dynasty will be able to proceed as our oracles have foretold."

"Hai." The messenger gave a slight bow, then disappeared down the ivory hallway.

The candle was extinguished with a single pinch between his fingers.

"So it has begun," he murmured. "The cursed ones will die, and the Dynasty will live again..."

High above, the sun began to rise above the town known as Nerima.

It was in a place deep below Japan.

The room was enormous, lit by the soft eerie glow of phosphor orbs, and shimmering with reflected crystalline colors from the opalescent ceiling high above. A variety of precious stones were imbedded in the walls, which were lined with gold at the bottom. The chamber was decorated with exquisite cloths and carvings from a bygone age, and in a corner was an object that vaguely resembled a shrine. The air was sweet with the scent of incense and strange-looking saffron-and-blue flowers.

A tall, dark man dressed in black red-embroidered robes paced up and down at the front of the room, his expression obscured from the twenty or so onlookers by the hood that was attached to his cape. Clasped in his bony fingers was a golden staff with a dragon's head, the blood-red jewel that constituted its eye sparkling with dark secrets.

He paused, his russet eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.

"Shino." The word rumbled out in a deep bass voice.

A young man with long jet-black hair and a well-toned frame got up from his knees and made his way up to him. He was garbed in the samurai outfit of a long-gone era, complete with a gold-plated breastplate and a lacquered metal helmet that was tucked under his arm. The tattoo of a coiled green dragon shone eerily from the biceps of his left arm.

Behind him were twenty more individuals in genuflecting positions, each wearing the attire of the ancient samurais as well, except that their armor was plated with iron and silver.

"Shino," the older man addressed him curtly, "you _are_ aware that the Dynasty is now on the verge of establishing itself back in its rightful place, are you not?"

"Hai, Lord Takuma," replied the youth.

"And you _do _know that only five remain on the list, do you not?"

"Hai, Lord Takuma."

"And you _have_ undergone all the preparations necessary to deal with these...distractions, have you not?"

It was an absurd question, really, and insulting to Shino's intelligence. Of _course_ he had prepared. After all, had he not led the hunt for the thousands of people whose names had reigned on this list for more years than he had cared to count, from one country to another, slowly ensuring the slow decline of potential obstacles from the destiny that his Dynasty was fated to embrace?

Perhaps Lord Takuma would never acknowledge it, but Shino was quite adept at his job as the head of the warrior's clan.

"Shino?" the older man prompted him, a trifle sharply.

"Hai, Lord Takuma," the youth confirmed. "In fact, I have already assembled some of my best warriors, ready to be dispatched at your command." He smirked. "Eliminating these last five people will be as easy as slicing off an upperworlder's head."

A murmur of amusement rippled through the onlookers.

"You had better be right," said the older man, his tone dangerously cold. "These five are the only ones standing in the way of the Dynasty, and the sooner they are gotten rid of, then the better it will be for all of us. Do you understand?"

The youth bowed, determination etched on his bronzed features. "Hai, Lord Takuma. We will not fail you."

"Very well, then." The older man gave a stiffly appreciative nod. "I trust that you will carry out your orders without difficulty."

As he turned to depart, Shino called out one last time to him. "My lord," he began, "these five chosen ones—where are they to be found?"

The older man paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Then he spoke.

"Nerima."

"Never heard of that place before," commented Shino, rather indifferently.

There was a hint of a smile that crept across the older man's lips. "So you have not. Nevertheless, you will find them there."

It was just another day in the place called Nerima.

To be more accurate, it was a day that was just a few weeks after the wedding fiasco of the town's most troublesome couple.

The bride had nearly been killed, had nearly died, and, as though to add insult to injury, had been unceremoniously "dumped" at the altar. Scratch that: it wasn't that she was dumped. The truth was, the groom had gotten a case of iceberg feet in the midst of the nuptials—before he had even gotten to the wedding vows. The bride had asked him if he loved her, and his response was no response at all.

The rest of the ceremony ended up in an uproar.

Ranma Saotome and Akane Tendo's lives had become a big soap opera, with the town of Nerima as their backdrop and a variety of odd and unpredictable individuals as their co-stars.

The two were a contributing factor to the entire town's perpetual State of Abnormality, and it was because of these two young people that the cycle of weirdness continued to flourish. It was because of them that the town had been visited by a huge flying fortress filled with warrior vegetarians, nearly torn apart by a fat baby Phoenix stuck on top of a certain upperclassman's head, played host to an entire horde of individuals with uncanny transformation powers, and subjected to every other sort of unparalleled weirdness. It was enough to render the townspeople almost frighteningly oblivious to anything that bordered on the bizarre to the downright absurd.

Indeed, the whole of Nerima seemed to revolve around Ranma Saotome and Akane Tendo, feeding off the details of their lives, paying for the scrapes they got into, and suffering huge amounts of property damage costs (caused either by countless martial artist duels with Ranma versus Ryouga/Kunou/Mousse/whoever or Akane's daily mallet chases after Ranma whenever he pissed her off considerably).

The wedding debacle was no different.

But now, it seemed that life in Nerima had returned to more-or-less-abnormal, and things had settled down, at least for the time being.

Early morning found a spectacle of Nerima's more notorious citizens proceeding with their daily routines: Ranma and Akane bickered about Akane's latest murder attempt on him with her toxic cooking as they made their way to Furinkan High; Shampoo prepared to intercept Ranma on her bike, a box of ramen on her hand and a frantic Mousse at her heels; Tatewaki Kunou searched the streets to Furinkan High with a Ready To Smite bokken in his hand, determined to rescue the pig-tailed girl and Akane Tendo from the clutches of the infidel Saotome; Kodachi Kunou prowled about with a bouquet of toxin-secreted black roses for her true love Ranma; Ukyou Kuonji applied the finishing touches to her heart-shaped okonomiyaki bearing the saucy message _"To My Darling Ranma"_, which she planned to present to him upon arriving at Furinkan High; Ryouga Hibiki asked for directions to Nerima in the middle of the district, and was promptly tackled by a very excited-looking girl with a huge white sumo pig; Soun Tendo and Genma Saotome played their never-ending game of Shogi and discussed the stubbornness of their children; Kasumi cheerfully made house; Nabiki Tendo was off extorting some hapless random victim; the incredibly perverted master of the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts bounced across a bathhouse roof carrying his latest haul of frilly women's underthings; Shampoo's great-grandmother Cologne tended to the customers at the Nekohantan and schemed on how to snare Ranma for her great-granddaughter.

It was almost _too_ typical a day, however. When things remained relatively uneventful for too long a time, something, somewhere, was bound to burst.

The Dynasty of the Dragon was coming.

And Nerima would never be the same.

_End of Prologue_


	2. Chapter 1: Divided we fall

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter One: Divided We Fall

"Beware of those who come in forms of two, for they shall be as gods."

—Hirawa Majin, "The Book of Mortals"

A monotonous, melancholy tune marked the beginning of the eighth hour at Furinkan High School.

Classroom doors slammed shut as the pupils within were subjected to their daily doses of knowledge and education; Principal Kunou sunbathed on the roof in his flowered trunks, armed with a piece of aluminum foil and a glass of pineapple juice; Miss Hinako waited patiently for her favorite delinquents, her child-form ready to siphon their auras in order to revert herself to her adult-form; Tatewaki Kunou, along with his Kendoist Club followers, was dragged off from the courtyard, still spouting elaborate protests on how it was his duty to go forth and seek out the reason for Akane Tendo's failure to show up at the school gates.

In effect, the most dysfunctional school in Tokyo was eerily quiet.

Mainly, that was because its major players were missing.

Akane Tendo and Ranma Saotome were late for school, and it was a known rule at Furinkan High that chaos had to restrain itself until these two had arrived at the campus grounds.

It was, after all, a normal day in the place called Nerima.

"Gather around the water, all of you," commanded the one in the black robes.

The figures complied without hesitation.

This room had a dreamy, surreal atmosphere. The walls were composed of a material that looked suspiciously like coral, the ceiling was made of jadestone and chrysoprase, and the floor was made of the finest mother-of-pearl.

The most distinguished-looking feature in the chamber, however, was the enormous, iridescent pool that sat placidly in its middle. Ripples of light that were reflected from the pool's surface danced across the bronze and silver-plated suits armor of the twenty or so individuals assembled around the water's edge.

"We are ready, my Lord," proclaimed the one in front.

At this, Lord Takuma raised his dragon's-head staff over the water. The gold dragon's eyes glittered a deep crimson, baring its fangs in a grotesque smile.

The surface bubbled. A hush fell on the audience, and the velvet depths of the pool cleared abruptly as an image slowly began to emerge.

It was the image of a longhaired individual appareled in white Chinese robes and wearing thick spiral-tinted glasses. He was running frantically after the silhouette of a girl on a bike.

"The place is Nerima, Japan," Lord Takuma said, "and this..."

He gestured at the image in the pool, almost carelessly.

"...is the first of the five targets."

"Sh-Sh-Shampoo! Wait!" yelled the optically challenged young man as he sprinted after the bicyclist, who also happened to be the love of his life.

It was really too bad that the love of his life had someone other than him whom she considered to be the love of _her_ life.

"Go away, Mousse! Leave Shampoo alone!" she shot back in a high female voice, her patois revealing her Chinese heritage. Her lush purple hair streamed out behind her, caught up in two neat buns at the back of her head, which only added to her exotic appearance.

"Buh-buh-but...where're you _going_?"

"Shampoo need to deliver extra-special ramen to very important person. Now shoo! Go!"

WHAM

The young man peeled his lips off the rough bark of the telephone pole he had collided into, composed himself, and resumed his pursuit of her.

"S-s-special ramen? Wait a minute—does this have anything to do with that fiend Ranma?"

"None of Mousse's business!"

WHAM

He pried himself off of another pole, and tottered on after her, only slightly undaunted; he was certain that his nose wasn't entirely flattened, and surely his eyeballs would return to their normal round shape after a while...

"It is, isn't it? You're going to try and make him eat the passion spice in that ramen, aren't you?"

"That none of your concern, Mousse!"

WHAM

Who was putting these damned poles in his way?

"Oh, yes it pant is!" He was beginning to run out of breath. "One day, Shampoo! pant One day, I'm going let you hagh see the error of your ways! Just haugh wait and see, Shampoo! I _will_ urk defeat Ranma Saotome—and I shall win your hurff your heart!"

"Then that not happen for very long time, no?"

She gained a burst of speed and vanished promptly down the horizon.

"Sh-Sh-_Shampoo_! Wait!"

WHAM

He toppled over backwards from the final pole and collapsed in the street, twitching, his limbs bent over in ninety-degree angles.

"Hmmm. A martial artist, is it? Most interesting." There was the hint of a smile tugging at Takuma's lips. "Very well. This will certainly not be the first one we come up against. Do not underestimate this one because of his looks, however. He may appear non-threatening, but he is quite skilled at concealing all sorts of assorted weaponry within the folds of his long robes. Also, he is extremely unpredictable, and sufficiently skilled in the art of combat. Take heed that you do not come within his throwing range, lest he ensnare you with his chains or catch you off-guard with his projectiles. He does, however,have two certain weaknesses..."

"What's that?" ventured one of the spectators.

"For one thing," pointed out Takuma, "without those corrective lenses he is wearing, his sense of sight is drastically reduced. And two, in his cursed form he is ridiculously to subjugate, unlike that one half-man, half-yeti abomination we disposed of last time.."

"Ranma?" Shampoo asked, hopefully.

She pressed down hard on her brakes, and looked slowly from left to right.

The street was deserted.

She hopped off her bike and propped it against a telephone pole, a frown of consternation on her face. As she inspected the road, her sharp eyes caught sight of a series of dents on the sidewalk. Hunching over, she studied the imprints, unable to withhold her curiosity.

They looked like...mallet marks.

Typical Akane Tendo handiwork.

_Stupid crazy Akane,_ thought Shampoo furiously. _How dare she try and kill Shampoo's husband! She no love Ranma! She always fight him! She crazy violent weakling girl!_

In any case, it was apparent that Akane and Ranma hadpassed this way. She'd just missed them too, by the looks of it. The mallet marks were still fresh.

Shampoo mounted her bike again, precariously balancing the box of spiced ramen on the palm of her left hand.

_Oh, well. At least Shampoo lose stupid Mousse._

Sometimes Shampoo wondered why Mousse was so thickheaded. Was it possible to be both optically and emotionally blind? Couldn't he see that all his attempts to woo and worship her were only suffocating her? Couldn't he understand that she could never view him in any other context other than a childhood friend? How could he be so stubborn?

But she didn't want to think about Mousse right now. The man of her dreams did not sport long tresses and spectacles, but instead sported a pigtail and a red Chinese shirt.

Ranma Saotome was the man of her dreams, no doubt about that. He was a strong, brave fighter, possessing enough skill to defeat even a formidable Chinese Amazon like Shampoo in combat. Her great-grandmother, Cologne, approved of him immensely. In fact, she favored him so much that she did not hesitate to assist her great-granddaughter in anyway she could to make Ranma become Shampoo's bridegroom, sometimes assisting her in schemes she would not have dreamt up otherwise on her own. Yes, Ranma was confident, handsome, and indomitable. He would make the ideal husband.

There was only one hitch to it, though: he had three other fiancees—one of which he seemed to spend more than a fair amount of time with.

Shampoo maneuvered her vehicle into the road again, a look of steely determination on her visage.

_Ranma, Shampoo marry you. One way or the other._

Then she heard a humming behind her.

Lord Takuma continued to speak into the pool while the youths listened, hanging on to his every word.

"This one is only slightly more difficult. She is a Chinese Amazon, trained from childhood in the ancient warrior ways of her tribe. She is quite knowledgeable in the arcane Amazon combat techniques and, in battle, is very fast, very agile, and very quick-witted. Her weapon of choice is the bonbori, although it seems she has neglected to bring them in this situation. As it is, she has been strongly instilled with the concepts of honor, discipline, and fierce pride—which, unfortunately for her, will also prove to be the chink in her armor..."

"This truly is a man's game, Tendo," murmured Genma Saotome, his visage a mask of utter solemnity as he sat cross-legged on the tatumi mat. "For a game of such depth as this requires long hours of the utmost concentration for one to master its unspeakable complexity."

"Indeed it is, Saotome," agreed Soun Tendo, his face equally as solemn as he languidly inspected the pieces on the Shogi game board that was spread out between them. "Indeed it is."

"You know, Tendo, I was just thinking. After all that our children have been through—Togenkyou Island, Akane's many kidnappings, her near-death—I had sort of...hoped that they would get along better."

"When are they going to learn?" Soun shook his head.

"Stubborn as mule, that boy of mine. Takes after his mother, Nodoka, I suppose."

"And Akane has her mother's stubbornness as well."

"Indeed, Tendo, they do take after their mothers."

"How unfortunate it is, then, that they did not take after _us_."

Both men sighed, deeply and regretfully.

They sat for a while in companionable silence, contemplating.

The quiet was interrupted by the rather disturbing sound of a Tendo dojo wall coming down.

CRASH

To Genma, the sound had become relatively commonplace, especially in a martial-artist-populated town like Nerima. To Soun, however, the sound only signaled yet another depletion of his already-limited monetary funds for repairs.

But instead of bursting into hysterics, Soun calmly straightened up and closed his eyes. "Make it stop," he muttered.

CRASH

Another wall was blown to kingdom come.

"Please...make it stop," said Soun. His eyelid was twitching dangerously.

Genma scooted to his feet, hastily adjusting his round rimless spectacles. "Think nothing of it, Tendo," he declared. "Why, it could...it could just be Master Happosai coming home from one of his...er, excursions."

And with that he ducked quickly into the house before his ears could suffer the agony of having to hear another full-blown Soun Tendo trademark wail.

"That is the third on the list. He may be folically-challenged, heavyset, and rather clueless-looking, but still, I would advise you not to judge him too prematurely. He is quite competent in the martial arts as well, having been subjected to hard training under the one known as Happosai, the founder of the School of the Anything-Goes Martial Arts—the most powerfully perverted little ogre in these parts, I might add. However, he is not as youthful and not as fast or vigorous as the previous two, but he is infinitely more experienced in combat, especially in the area of aerial attacks. Nonetheless, he is relatively more susceptible, especially when he is deprived of speed and alacrity in his cursed form. I should inform you, however, that if he ever resorts to a ominously powerful-looking attack called the Saotome School Ultimate Technique, it would be best to make sure that you have a couple of interceptors at his back..."

"Ranma?" Ukyou Kuonji asked, hopefully.

The boy turned. "Sorry to disappoint you," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but I'm not the object of your affections."

Ukyou narrowed her eyes as she approached the boy in front of her. He _did_ have Ranchan's height and build, but upon closer inspection, she realized that in place of the pig-tail was a spotted black-and-yellow bandanna, and a pair of green eyes in place of the blue.

"Oh. It's just you," she muttered, her disappointment evident.

Ryouga Hibiki was tired. Exhausted. Drained. He had been traveling for three months now, struggling to find Nerima after the shame of the wedding fiasco, and the last thing he needed was a reminder of how he never measured up to his most hated rival. Especially if it came from a girl who had once been his co-conspirator in many a separate-Akane-and-Ranma plot.

"Sorry, Ryouga. Thought you were Ranchan, that's all."

He stared at her, his thick dark hair lifting slightly in the sudden breeze. "How could you think I was Ranma?"

"Hey, you guys look alike from a distance, okay?" Ukyou shot back staunchly. "Big deal. Could happen to anyone."

Ryouga frowned. "Yeah. Right."

"Well, long time no see. Thought you were gone for good." She shrugged. "Heh. No such luck, eh, sugar?"

Ryouga smirked at her, displaying the briefest flash of a pair of tiny fangs. "Gee, thanks. You make one helluva welcoming committee, you know that?"

"Well, ex-_cuse_ me," Ukyou retorted. "I thought you were glad to leave Nerima and live your life out in the country."

Ryouga sighed and glanced away. "That was because of Akari."

Ukyou blinked. "Akari? Who's Akari?"

"Akari Unryuu. I ran into her a while ago—long story. Anyway, she just moved into Nerima with her grandfather—who seems to have recovered nicely from his Œdeath'—and she's planning to enroll in Furinkan High. She's got this huge white sumo pig with her all the time. Kind of hard to miss, really."

Ukyou was still blinking. "So she's a girl?" she queried dubiously.

Ryouga nodded, his expression faraway.

"A real live girl?"

Ryouga nodded.

"Are you sure she's not, like, a figment-of-your-imagination-type kind of girl?"

Ryouga nodded, looking distinctly irritated.

"You mean a real girl—not as in, a guy dressed up as a girl or something?"

"YES!" Ryouga yelled in frustration. "YES, SHE'S A NORMAL GIRL! AND YES, SHE _IS_ REAL, AND YES, SHE _IS_ SANE, AND YES, SHE _IS_ PERFECTLY NORMAL—AS FAR AS I CAN TELL, ANYWAY!

"Wow," Ukyou remarked, oblivious to his outburst as she shook her head in disbelief. "You, Ryouga Hibiki, with a girl. Still can't believe it though..."

"She's probably looking around for me right now," murmured Ryouga, furtively tugging at the umbrella that was wedged on top of his huge traveling backpack. "Then you can see her for yourself."

"That I will," replied a grinning Ukyou. "This is definitely something I gotta see with my own eyes. I never thought you had it in you. So...have you said one word to her yet, or are you still practicing for that big step?"

"Akari and I were a _couple_," growled Ryouga.

He didn't think it possible, but he had actually succeeded in rendering Ukyou Kuonji utterly speechless. Then she regained control of her vocal chords. "Uh...were?"

Ryouga scratched the back of his head, letting out a deep, resigned breath. "Well, we kinda sorta broke up..."

"Huh? Why?"

"Akane."

"Oh." Ukyou was quiet. That one word was enough.

Ryouga cleared his throat, switching topics abruptly. "Hey, what's that?" he inquired, pointing at the box that hung from a string in Ukyou's hand.

The tactic worked. Ukyou's face filled with pride as she lifted the cover of the box to show him the heart-shaped okonomiyaki inside. On the top was a saucy message: _To My Darling Ranma_.

"Oh, just a little present for my Ranchan," she answered slyly. "Not very original, I admit, but if Shampoo can use her passion spice and Kodachi her black roses with paralysis gas to win Ranchan over, then what's to stop me from using my okonomiyaki skills to my advantage?"

Ryouga gazed longingly at the okonomiyaki, feeling his stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten a decent meal in a couple of days, and the inside of the box smelled scrumptious.

"Say, Ukyou," he began, "you don't mind if I—_hey_!"

Ukyou batted away his hand with a sharp spatula shuriken that she fished out of her bandoleer. "Ah-ah, sugar, no can-do. I nearly killed myself trying to perfect this thing, and I'm not about to waste it on anyone other than Ranchan."

Ryouga scowled. "You're obsessed with him, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you're obsessed with Akane, sugar."

"But that's—" Ryouga sputtered, groping for some sort of comeback. "I—"

Ukyou suddenly stopped. "Oh, damn," she muttered, sneaking a swift glimpse at the clock on the other side of a storefront window. "Now look whatcha done, Ryouga! Now I'm gonna be late for school!"

"Huh? What did I do?" Ryouga demanded.

"You made me _talk_ to you, you jackass!" snapped Ukyou.

She turned abruptly and began to sprint toward the direction of Furinkan High, not even bothering to bid farewell to the lost boy behind her. It didn't seem necessary, though, as she became aware that he was running along beside her.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

"Hey, I'm lost! I figured that if I found a familiar landmark like Furinkan High, I can remember the way to the Tendo dojo or something."

"Oh, yeah, riiight. You wanna see what Akane's up to, huh?"

"N-no! Actually—I—I just wanted to check if Akari might be there!"

"You are _such_ a jackass sometimes, Ryouga."

"Now this one may look quite young and inexperienced, but take heed, he is extremely formidable. He is phenomenally strong, displays remarkable endurance, and has a paranoia that allows him to sense most attacks before they are carried out. His weapons of choice include a seemingly endless supply of bandannas, a belt that can be wielded like a sword, and that heavy red umbrella on his back. He also possesses the knowledge of several fighting techniques that may prove quite devastating. One of them is the Bakusai Ten-Ketsu, or the breaking point technique, that can repulse a wave of attackers if executed precisely. One fact that I find quite impressive in the boy is that he is one of the first upperworlders on the list who has exceptional control of his spiritual energy—his ki—enough control to actually manipulate it into a form of attack. Because of this, he is capable of unleashing a ki-blast called the Shishi Houkodan, which feeds off of his depression. I advise you to approach this one with extreme caution. If reverted to his other form, he will be infinitely easier to subjugate. As skilled as the boy may be, he is barely able to keep his abilities under control, and is easily influenced by his emotions—moreso than most other upperworlders. Sadly for him, it is these traits that will determine the final outcome in this little game of survival..."

"Stupid Akane," muttered Ranma.

He was currently in his history class, unmindful of the monotonous droning of the sensei up front as he pointed out several locations on a map of ancient Kyoto. Around him, the class was buzzing, paper airplanes were being launched, comic books were being read, and notes were being passed...

"Huh?"

Ranma glanced down at his desk, momentarily puzzled. His classmate behind him had tossed a folded-up piece of paper with his name scrawled on top of it.

He opened it idly, wondering if it had anything to do with that wedding blunder, though it the topic had already gotten old.

_What's up with you and Akane?_ were the hastily scribbled words on it.

Ranma sighed. He did I feel like discussing Akane right now. For one, she was mad at him. Again. It didn't matter why she was mad. Nowadays, she seemed to get mad at him more often than usual, and for the smallest, most insignificant reasons.

And he had no idea why.

_Stupid Akane,_ he thought again, his fist tightening round the paper. _Doesn't even need a reason to chew me out. It doesn't matter_ _what I do. She'll take it the wrong way no matter what._

Ranma pressed his hot forehead into his cold palms.

_Akane, you totally uncute tomboy. What the heck did _I_ do to make you_ _so mad?_

He could think of a million different reasons. Maybe it was the way he had gagged after tasting her food this morning. Like he could help it. Or maybe it was because he had received presents of food and messages of love last night at the dojo gates from Ukyou, Kodachi, and Shampoo. Or maybe because he had bested her when they had conducted their daily training at the dojo. Or maybe...

...maybe she was still mad about the whole marriage thing.

Ranma vaguely remembered telling Akane how he really felt about her during that incident at Mount Phoenix, when he thought she was going to die. He had told her that he loved her.

Things took a downhill turn after that.

In the end, after the dust had finally settled, it seemed as though they had reached some unspoken mutual agreement that they would continue on with their lives like nothing had happened.

_Yeah, right, _mused Ranma, more than a little bit bitter. _How're_ _ya s'posed to act like nothin' ever happened when you just admitted to_ _her that you lo—you...love..._

Ranma shook his head violently, trying to clear his thoughts.

_I...love her...?_

So how did he feel about Akane? Did he care for her? Did _she_ care for him?

Lately, considering the way she seemed to direct her more violent tantrums toward him, it didn't seem like she cared at all.

Ranma felt his heart contract at the thought, and he had no idea why...

"Ranma!" hissed a voice.

Jolted out of his reverie, he straightened up, half-expecting the sensei to subject him to the water-bucket punishment for not paying attention, but the sensei didn't even seem to notice. He glanced around inquiringly, wondering if his friends Hiroshi and Daisuke had called him regarding the note, but for once they both seemed to be engrossed in the sensei's history lesson.

"Son-in-law!"

Now _that_ was a moniker he couldn't mistake.

Ranma looked out the window beside him that overlooked the campus grounds of Furinkan High, and was surprised to see two figures.

One was Akane's father, Soun Tendo, looking very agitated and on the verge of tears. The other was a diminutive silver-haired old woman, who happened to be Shampoo's great-grandmother, Cologne.

_Wonder what they're doin' here? _Ranma thought, blinking.

Soun beckoned to him desperately, and Cologne waved her gnarled wooden staff in a manner that was almost uncharacteristically frenetic.

Ranma's forehead furrowed in concern. Something was wrong.

_But why're they insistin' that I come down now? What's so_ _important that I gotta cut class?_

He chanced a brief glance at the sensei, weighing his options. Then, with a nonchalant shrug, he cautiously hefted his schoolbag up onto his chair and hurled himself out the window while his sensei's back was turned.

Piece of cake. He _was_ a martial artist, after all.

"I don't even think I have to remind you all that the Dynasty's entire future lies on this final one. It is no accident that he has been kept for last, mind you. He is the last of the Jusenkyo-cursed, and the last obstacle that stands in the way of the Dynasty. This is what all those long years of hunting has finally lead you to, and he will _not_ be easily taken—indeed, the most difficult one we will ever attempt to subdue. He possesses a speed that is unsurpassed, and a skill that is unparalleled. He is very cunning, very dexterous, and able to adapt in order to counteract any adversary's fighting style. He prefers to fight barehanded, and employs the use of a number of deadly martial arts techniques. One is the Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken—the Chestnut Fist technique—which is performed via an overwhelming amount of hits within a very brief period of time. Another is the Hiryuu Shouten Ha—the Dragon's Heaven Blast, no less—a deadly finishing move that is effective against one enemy or several. Still another is the Moukou Takabisha, which is the ultimate manifestation of his ki."

The audience consulted amongst themselves.

"So what is his weakness?" demanded an observer.

The tall man ran his long fingers over the tranquil surface of the pool, sending cascades of ripples across the watery image of the ebony-haired, pig-tailed young man.

"Simple," replied Takuma, his tone insouciant. "He has never come across anything like us before."

The bell rung, signaling the end of the school day, and Furinkan High's entrance was spilling over with mobs of exultant pupils, pouring out of the building like water rushing from a ruptured dam.

Three girls in particular made their way through the multitude in a peculiarly quiet fashion. This was probably due to the melancholy state the girl in the middle seemed to be submerged in.

"Akane? Is something wrong?" Sayuri asked.

"Yeah, anything we can help you with?" Yuka put in.

Akane smiled at her friends, shoving away the nagging feeling that gnawed at the pit of her stomach. "Oh, it's nothing," she managed, hugging her schoolbooks harder to her chest. "I—I was just thinking, that's all."

Sayuri observed her pensively, then took the plunge. "You know, Akane, you really shouldn't let Ranma get to you that way."

Akane oscillated to face her, eyes wide. "Wh-what?"

"Yeah, Akane," Yuka piped up, encouraged by Sayuri's bravado. She was well aware that bringing Ranma's name into a conversation was still a sensitive issue with her friend, but she was determined not to let Akane keep her emotions bottled up. Besides, Ranma and Akane had been acting artificially nice toward each other at school for weeks now, and they were no longer engaging in their customary shouting matches involving the creative uses of words like Œtomboy' and Œpervert'.

It just wasn't _natural_.

"I—I don't know what you guys're talking about," stammered Akane.

"Aw, come on!" scoffed Yuka, shifting her bookbag to her left side. "We're your friends, Akane. We _see _things."

Akane laughed, albeit nervously. "See things, huh? Like what? Like the way Ranma doesn't even want to talk to me anymore? Honestly! Why would I even care about the way things are between us? That's the way things're gonna be from now on, and that's the way _I _like it, okay?"

An uncomfortable silence reigned as the three girls elbowed their way through the homebound crowds.

Finally Sayuri spoke. "You know, Akane, Ranma may be a jerk and a pervert sometimes, but you should stop denying your feelings for him...before you find out that it's too late to tell him the truth."

And with that parting statement, Sayuri and Yuka strolled away in the direction of their homes, leaving behind a very mystified Akane.

_What did she mean by that...?_

She heard a distinctly familiar voice call her name and she spun around, somewhat flustered, and her confusion grew. "Uhm, Dad? What're you doing here?"

And then she realized just who were standing beside him.

There was Cologne, clutching her wooden staff and looking not unlike a dried-up plum with two Ping Pong balls for eyes clinging to a tree branch. There, too, was Ukyou Kuonji, who had been mysteriously absent from class that day, her blue eyes wide with worry and her expression deathly pale.

And then she noticed the dried tear trails on her father's cheeks. The tear trails were nothing new, but the look on his face was enough to make her stop in her tracks.

"Dad? Wha—what's wrong?" she asked, urgently.

Soun put his hands on his youngest daughter's shoulders, trying to keep up a brave face before her. "Akane...something...something terrible happened to Ranma and the others today..."

_End of Chapter One_


	3. Chapter 2: The battle plan

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Two: The Battle Plan

"Woe to those who come upon the waters,  
For they are but fodder throughout the age;  
Nothing but shells for the souls  
To be harvested for Heaven's rage."

—excerpt from the scrolls of Fu Hsi

It was uncannily silent at the Tendo dojo later that afternoon.

After-school activities at the dojo usually consisted of pointless bouts of squabbling between Akane and Ranma, scuffles whenever Ryouga or Mousse or Kunou embarked on their daily rounds of violence directed against the latter of the aforementioned couple, and general property damage whenever Shampoo or Kodachi dropped by to announce their never-ending love for the latter as well.

It seemed that all the insanity had centered around Ranma.

And now, the stillness that had befallen the Tendo residence seemed to have originated from one inevitable facts: Ranma wasn't there.

Neither were Genma, Ryouga, Mousse, or Shampoo.

The living room had the atmosphere of a tomb.

The dinner of teriyaki and rice lay untouched on the low-set dining table. The television was on, showing the latest weather broadcast, but it was currently on mute. Even Nabiki's yen-related phone discussions and Kasumi's cheerful exclamations of "oh my" were blatantly absent.

They were all here and accounted for, though.

Soun Tendo sat at the head of the table, staring down blankly at the assembled feast before him, his tanned, mustachioed visage streaked with dried tear trails. Kasumi and Nabiki Tendo each sat on one side of him, their gazes fixed on the floor, unable to summon up the appropriate words in which to address this current dilemma. Cologne had positioned herself at the far end of the long table, her owl-like eyes closed as she pondered the situation. Ukyou Kuonji had isolated herself slightly to the right, her forehead resting on the handle of the huge assault spatula she clutched in her hands. Akane Tendo sat directly opposite her, an unreadable expression upon her countenance, her fists clenched tightly amongst the folds of the sky-blue skirt of the uniform she was wearing.

In short, the inhabitants of the room were tense, and the illusion of normality that had coalesced about them was on the verge of dissolving. They were too listless to do anything else; the aura of those assembled was too anxious to possibly think about anything else...

"Pass me some soba, please," said Cologne.

The others gawked at her as Kasumi obeyed—as it was her obligation due to her pleasantly oblivious nature—and the old Chinese Amazon attacked the noodles like there was no tomorrow.

Akane was the first to express her indignation. "I don't believe this!" she sputtered. "How can you act so calm when something's happened to Ranm—I mean, to the others?"

Ukyou joined in, equally indignant. "Yeah, and one of them's your great-granddaughter, too!"

Cologne silenced them with a sharp sweep of her staff, then calmly finished off the last of the soup and noodles. "Do you want to hear what happened to Ranma and the others or don't you?" she asked pointedly.

Her words seemed to snap the shocked assemblage back to life.

"Do _you_ know where Ranchan is?" Ukyou demanded eagerly.

"And what about Saotome?" Soun wanted to know.

"And Ranm—the others? What about the others?" Akane added.

"Could you have possibly seen what happened?" queried Nabiki, as indifferently as only Nabiki Tendo was capable of under the circumstances.

"Oh, my," was all Kasumi could say.

Cologne waved all their inquiries aside with her chopsticks. "One thing at a time, all of you, one thing at a time. Granted, the circumstances of Shampoo and the others' disappearance are very strange indeed, and it will take a while before we can figure out what _exactly _happened to them." She hopped on top of the table, and from there she addressed the rest of the group. "But before we can even contemplate that, I suggest that we hear the eyewitness accounts first in order to get a better idea of who or what was responsible for this."

Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Wow, that actually sounds reasonable."

Cologne sent her a glare. It was hard to tell, especially when her beady little eyes made it look like she was always glaring, but it seemed like a real glare this time. "Do not mock your elders, child."

"Sorry, sorry," muttered Nabiki, holding her hands up in a condescending gesture of surrender. "So bite me if I'm just not used to any sort of rational thought in this house."

"Anyway, as I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," Cologne went on, "I think it would be best for all of us to hear about what happened during the time of the disappearances." She swiveled around to glance at Soun. "You were there with me when Ranma and the older Saotome vanished, Tendo. Care to relate to us what you saw?"

"Uhm, yes, of course." Soun leaned back, his eyes glazing over as he transported his mind back to the events of the morning. "After Cologne had showed up here, saying something about getting to Ranma before something terrible happened, Saotome and I immediately rushed to the school in a desperate and daring attempt to save him..."

—_Flashback—_

_"Hurry, Saotome! Hurry!" Soun urged, wiping the waterfall of sweat that streamed down his face. At his heels were Genma, who was panting profusely, and Cologne, who was hopping alongside him, utilizing her staff like a pogo stick._

_"I_ am _hurrying!" shot back an exhausted Genma, whose ample girth made running at top speed an activity he hated immensely. "But what I still don't know is exactly why we're doing this!"_

_"I have told you already, Saotome: I fear that son-in-law is in danger," Cologne reminded him briskly as she leaped over a fence. "The sooner we can warn him of this, then the better."_

_"Warn him?" demanded Genma, unconvinced. "Warn him of_ what_?"_

_"I will explain later!" snapped Cologne. "For now, we will simply have to rely on my instincts and reach son-in-law before he is taken as well!"_

_"_Taken_?" panted Genma. "Hold on a minute! Nobody is taking my son—"_

_"You may not even have a say in it, Saotome," replied Cologne as she cleared a telephone pole. "I just seem to harbor a very bad feeling about this..."_

_"And why's that? What does this have to do with Ranma?"_

_"Saotome, now is not the time for needless explanations! Skilled as son-in-law may be, that is not going to make any difference in the final outcome—do you understand?" Cologne swiveled around to stare at Genma, her eyes narrowed._

_Genma, however, was not about to tolerate this sort of abuse without further clarification, and was quite adamant in voicing this. "Well,_ I _haff am definitely NOT going to haugh kill myself just because pantpant you're haighaigh overreacting to noth—"_

_He was cut off by the faintest sounds of humming and the briefest flash of light._

_Soun and Cologne skidded to a halt, stunned. Where Genma had been lumbering along right beside them, there was nothing but thin air._

_A few minutes passed as they searched around the surroundings, failing to locate any sign of where Genma had gone. It was as if he had vanished off the face of the earth without their knowing._

_"What happened?" Soun demanded, looking astonishingly self-composed—especially when one considered the wretched control he had of his tear ducts._

_"He's gone," Cologne concluded stiffly, scaling back up her stick. "This is more serious than I expected, Tendo. It seems they took him as well. And if _they_ are the ones I suspect them to be, then here is nothing we can do about Saotome's disappearance."_

_"Nothing?" Again, Soun Tendo did not show any signs of panicking._

_"Nothing more," repeated Cologne grimly. "We will discuss this later, Tendo. First it is imperative that we reach son-in-law before they do."_

_Soun remained in his statuesque pose, his visage grim. "Then that we shall," he declared, his voice strong and unwavering. "Forgive me, Saotome, but our lifelong friendship must be considered later if we are to save your son. For I must retain my honor, dear friend Saotome—"_

—_Present Time—_

WHACK

"Oh my," Kasumi said, hand over her mouth.

"Poor daddy dear," Nabiki commented.

Cologne unwedged her battle stick somewhere from the top of Soun's head. "Honor indeed!" she groused. "When he realized Saotome was gone, he ran around bawling like a baby. The very shame—a grown man doing such things!" She shuddered.

"Daddy's the...shall we say...sensitive type," offered Nabiki.

"Well, ex_cuse _me," Akane interrupted, "but wouldn't you be upset too if your lifelong friend just vanished in front of your eyes without a trace?"

"I already explained it, child—there was _nothing_ he could have done. After I convinced him of that, we had already lost precious time in trying to get to son-in-law. But when we arrived at the school, it seemed that there was no place to hide..."

—_Flashback—_

_"Sooo...you sayin' that there's another group of maniacs out there who're out to get everyone under the Jusenkyo curse—and they're not the Jusenkyo Order?" demanded Ranma, looking sharply skeptical._

_Cologne looked solemn. "That is exactly what I am saying."_

_Soun nodded anxiously, darting suspicious looks all around them. "I think you'd best listen to her, boy."_

_They were in front of the perimeter fence that lined the front of Furinkan High. Behind them, the classroom window of Sensei Tanaka's third-floor classroom gaped wide open as he continued his lecture, unmindful of the fact that one of his students had been replaced by a backpack._

_"But I still don't understand why—"_

_"It's a long story," explained Cologne, yanking Ranma's arm with her staff. "But now is not the time nor the place for me to tell it. It is absolutely of the essence that we first get you back to a safe place."_

_Ranma frowned, somewhat exasperated with the way the two adults were behaving. "Look, maybe it's just me, but I think you guys're blowing this a little outta propor—"_

_He was cut off by the distinct sound of grass being trampled right behind him._

_A quick about-face revealed that there was no one behind him. In fact, the only movement around him was the rippling of foliage in the sudden breeze._

_The hum started up again. Faintly._

_Ranma let out a low whistle as he slowly got to his feet. "Well, well, whaddaya ya know?" he remarked. "Seems there _is _someone out here with us after all."_

_"More like someones," Cologne corrected grimly, stepping back._

_"NO!" screamed Soun, tearing out tufts of long black hair from his scalp. "THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE OUT TO GET US! I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! HAVE MERCY, I BEG OF YOU! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO MEEEEE—"_

_BONK_

_"Oh, get a grip on yourself!" scolded Cologne, straightening out the Soun-shaped dent on her staff. "Really, if I were your sensei, I'd slap you silly, I would. Besides, they're not after us—it's son-in-law they're after!"_

_"_Me_?" echoed Ranma._

_"Oh, right." Soun composed himself, clearing his throat. "I...knew that."_

_Ranma rolled his eyes. "This is crazy!" he protested. "What the heck did I do this time?"_

_"You have the curse of Jusenkyo upon you," Cologne informed him quietly. "For these people, that is all they need to know."_

_The humming grew louder, more incessant. As though on cue, the wind picked up speed._

_Cologne yanked Ranma's arm with her staff. "Come on," she urged. "We have to leave. Now. We need to find you some place to hide before it's too late—"_

_Ranma shook off her grasp. "I'm stayin'," he stated flatly._

_"What?" shrieked Soun._

_"I'm stayin'," Ranma repeated._

_This did not sit well with the Tendo patriarch. "Are you _insane_, boy? I may have tolerated your shenanigans for the sake of my little girl, but I draw the line at letting her marry a dead man!"_

_"Listen to me," Ranma began, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm not gonna let those jerks get me. It's not like I'm totally helpless, ya know! I'm perfectly capable of takin' care of myself!"_

_"That doesn't matter," Cologne cut in, her voice hard. "You may be the best martial artist in Nerima, son-in-law, but if I am correct in guessing just_ who _these people are then maybe, just maybe...maybe your best isn't good enough. The same goes for me."_

_Ranma looked at her in shock. After a half-second of slight reluctance, though, he finally came to a decision._

_"I don't care," he declared. "I gotta know what happened to Pop and the others."_

_Cologne studied him for a second, then hopped over, long silver hair flapping wildly in the wind. "Then so shall I," said she, hefting her staff into a battle position._

_"What are you doing?" exclaimed Soun, jogging toward them._

_"If son-in-law decides to put his life in the line to find out what happened to my Shampoo, then I am in no place to stop him," replied Cologne._

_"Exactly," Ranma said in determination. "If Shampoo's in trouble, then I gotta save her. After all, I_ am_ your son-in-law, right?"_

_"That is correct." Cologne smiled. "My, aren't you brave."_

_"You're not bad yourself, Cologne..."_

—_Present Time—_

"Yeah, _right_!" Ukyou and Akane yelled at the same time.

"Why, can't a girl dream anymore?" Cologne defended herself quite staunchly.

"Not when the girl happens to be two hundred eighty years old and past menopause," Nabiki remarked.

"Why, of all the nerve! You youngsters nowadays...no respect for your elders—"

"Never mind about that!" interjected Akane. "What happened after?"

Cologne took a deep breath and immersed herself once again in her recollection. "Well, Soun and I faced the unseen assailants, intending to discourage them from reaching son-in-law, but it was of no avail..."

—_Flashback—_

_"All right, this is it!" Ranma yelled above the wind._

_The trio tensed, their backs to each other._

_A sapling to their right began to bend in the rapidly growing gusts of wind. Branches swayed frenziedly. The humming reached an unbearable crescendo._

_"They're here," said Cologne._

_They looked up, and a flash of light met their eyes. Soun shielded himself from the glare with an upraised arm, while Cologne merely squinted. Ranma remained motionless, his attention arrested by something the others could not see..._

_A half-second later, the light dimmed._

_And Ranma was missing._

—_Present Time—_

"He...disappeared?" exclaimed Ukyou. "Just—just like that?"

"That was what we gathered, yes," confirmed Soun.

Ukyou turned away, her face concealed by the velvet curtain of her long mahogany hair. At the same time a smorgasboard of emotions rushed swiftly past Akane's face, and everyone became deathly silent again.

Cologne leaped down from her perch on the tabletop and approached Ukyou, her face questioning. "And what about you?" she asked.

Ukyou glanced at her, puzzled. "Me?"

"You ran into us a few minutes after son-in-law disappeared," the old woman reminded her. "And if I'm not mistaken, I would deduct that you came from the direction of an immense explosion of light that the three of us witnessed before we were attacked. Do you have any knowledge concerning _that_ particular explosion?"

"Y-you mean—?"

"It appeared to be vaguely familiar, now that I think about it."

"I-it was..." Ukyou chewed on her lip. "I—I think it was Ryouga."

"Ryouga?" Akane's tone was disbelieving. "Why?"

"Well, he came back into town today, and I sorta ran into him, and then I realized what time it was, and then he began running alongside me 'cause he got me late, stupid navigationally-challenged jackass that he is..." Ukyou scowled as she remembered how furious she was at him. "He was going to get me late to school, and here he was—"

"Just tell us what happened already," Nabiki muttered.

Ukyou blinked. "Oh. Right." She tugged thoughtfully at her spatula-decked bandoleer. "Anyway, we were nearly at the bridge, but then when I turned to throw some insult at him, he was gone."

"Did you see how he disappeared?" Cologne queried.

"Well, I kinda thought that he'd just gone and gotten himself lost again in a span of about a half-second, so I really didn't give it much thought," admitted Ukyou. Then she reconsidered. "Wait a minute—I think I remember seeing a bit of light or something beside me before he vanished. And there was this tiny noise...sort of like whirring."

"Humming?" Soun volunteered.

Ukyou nodded vigorously. "Yeah. Humming."

"Then there is no doubt about it." Cologne drew herself up, her expression one of grave wisdom. "Ryouga was taken as well. That explosion Soun and I saw earlier was unmistakably Ryouga's ki-attack, the Shishi Houkoudan."

Ukyou snapped her fingers. "That's it! I saw him use that blast before, up close." She shivered. "That's one helluva technique, if you ask me."

"Then he must have been fighting someone—or someones," Cologne mused, pacing back and forth on the tatumi mat. "And it's common knowledge to all martial artists to resort to utilizing ki only as their final measure. Therefore, whatever Ryouga was up against must have been extremely powerful."

"You mean Ryouga was taken too?" exclaimed Akane.

"Oh my. Poor Ryouga," said Kasumi, who had been quiet throughout the entire discussion.

"But why?" demanded Akane. "You mentioned earlier that the only reason Ranma, Mousse, Shampoo, and Mr. Saotome were singled out from the rest of us was because they were cursed in the Jusenkyo springs. I know they all have two forms, but _Ryouga_? He isn't cursed! I don't think he's ever even beento Jusenkyo!"

Cologne waggled her eyebrows up and down, but she did not let the shinola hit the fan.

"We'll figure that part out later," said Soun in a surprisingly aggressive tone of voice. "But right now, I am more inclined to find out exactly what you—" He jabbed his index finger toward Cologne. "—make of this, old woman."

Cologne took her sweet time before replying to his question. She sat there, eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, before finally opening them to their full alarming size as she regarded the apprehensive crowd.

"If you all want a straight answer from me, then I am sorry to disappoint you," she said soberly. "I can only tell you that I may have a clue as to who is behind their disappearances."

"But...but...are they—"

Cologne looked at Akane, and was moderately startled to see her eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like tears.

"Are they alive?" Ukyou whispered, sitting next to Akane.

Cologne paused and the entire room held its breath. Then she nodded.

"Oh, thank goodness," breathed Kasumi.

"How do you know _that_, may I ask?" The query came from a wary-looking Nabiki.

"I told you, I think I know the party responsible for this, and if they are the ones I suspect, then Ranma, Ryouga, Mousse, Shampoo, and Saotome are still alive. But I fear that they are in great danger." At this, the old Chinese Amazon extracted an object from somewhere within the folds of the green silk robes she wore. "I found this on the very spot Shampoo disappeared. I meant to show this to you all earlier, but I believed then that it was simply a hoax."

The entire assemblage stared down at the object that Cologne lay on top of the table for their inspection. It was a tiny piece of fabric, of a kind that was neither silk nor satin. It sported jagged edges on its sides, indicating that it had been torn from an article of clothing. It shone with an eerie mirror-like surface, glowing with an effulgent red hue mixed with a green and gold sheen that reflected in the fading rays of the setting sun. The most extraordinary detail, however, was a series of intricate gold slashes across the fabric.

"Looks at that. It's some sort of writing," breathed Ukyou.

"Now that you mention it, it certainly does," Kasumi agreed.

"But that's certainly not Katakana," pointed out Nabiki. "And it definitely isn't Chinese..."

"Your assumptions are correct," Cologne said. "This, indeed, isa writing style, though it is of a kind that we no longer employ today." She gestured at the graceful swirls that made up the character, tracing over it with the tip of her staff. "This is written in a calligraphy that is a combination of the Hiragana and the Chinese Kanji style of writing. This, ladies and gentleman, is the word Shoryuu, or Œdragon'."

"Dragon...?" echoed Ukyou softly.

"Yes, dragon." Cologne nodded. "Or, to be more appropriate, the Shoryuu—the Dragon Dynasty. The only people I imagine would be capable of defeating Ranma Saotome and the others by reducing them to their cursed forms, to which they seem to have a special defense against."

"The Dragon Dynasty?" Akane looked bewildered. "But what...?"

"In this town, sis, anything is possible," Nabiki reminded her. "I mean, come on, we've been visited by a baby Phoenix, the Seven Lucky Gods, a half-guy, half-yeti-riding-a-bull-while-carrying-an-eel-and-crane, and I don't even have to mention daddy's own perverted sensei."

"And all of them are nothing compared to this current crisis," stated Cologne, flatly. "We are talking about a monarchy that existed long before any records were documented—a monarchy that even our ancestors refused to believe existed."

"But what do they want with Ranma and the others?" demanded Soun.

"Hmmm. I think I am beginning to understand why they targeted them," Cologne declared grimly, rising to her feet. "Then the legends I true. There is a connection between the formation of Jusenkyo itself and the rise of the Shoryuu clan. Something concerning destiny itself, that I am certain of..." She shook her head, as if to postpone the issue. "But first, we still have a matter of five people to save..." She motioned meaningfully toward the dojo doors.

"Well...that sounded like a go-signal to me," Nabiki observed.

Akane scrambled to her feet, suddenly bubbling with newfound energy. "All right, get up, you guys. We're gonna find Ranm—I mean, the others!"

"That's the spirit, Akane!" Soun stood up as well. "As long as they're all right, then we still have a chance to save them!"

"I'm with you, sugar," Ukyou seconded. Her eyes glowed with renewed determination as she hefted her spatula. "After all, if they think they can take my Ranma-honey away from me, then they've got another thought comi—"

"Ohohohoho_hoh_! Did someone mention my darling Ranma's name?"

And Kodachi Kunou plowed a hole through yet another Tendo dojo wall, dressed in a red leotard that looked like it was painted on and carrying her usual dowry of lethal black roses.

"Ko-Kodachi?" Akane spluttered.

"Oh, hello. Nice to see you," said Kasumi, smiling pleasantly.

Ukyou covered her eyes. "Ugh. Tell me this is NOT happening."

Kodachi struck a dramatic pose. "Ah, yes, but it is! It is I, Kodachi Kunou, the Black Rose herself! But do tell me—where is my darling Ranma?"

"Your _darling_ Ranma," Akane replied between gritted teeth, "is not here."

"He's not?" Kodachi frowned, ignoring Soun Tendo's tirade of ŒMy wall! My house! My home!' "Where is he then, may I ask?"

"He's going to be _dead _ in about a couple of hours if this goes on!"

Kodachi emitted a horrified stage-gasp, her fingers flying to her crimson-painted lips. "Oh, my darling Ranma! We mustsave him!"

"Uhm, that's what we're kind of trying to do here," Ukyou pointed out bluntly.

"Then count me in!" declared Kodachi, flailing her gymnastic ribbon-whip in insane patterns. "For it is my duty as his fiance to save him from all that may be!"

Akane dodged as the red ribbon twirled madly past her. "Excuseme?" she yelled. "_Your _fiance? Well, I'm sorry, sister, but he happens to be—"

"—_my _fiance too!" Ukyou finished for her.

Akane looked at the both of them and threw her hands up in utter exasperation. "Oh, what's the use?"

"What's that? Dost my ears detect the sweet voice of the fair Akane Tendo?"

Who else would it be but the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High himself, Tatewaki Kunou? He entered, of course, by slashing a hole through yet another wall of the Tendo dojo.

"K-Kunou?" Akane's eyebrow was beginning to twitch.

"Come to join the party, Kunou-baby?" muttered Nabiki.

Kunou assumed a mighty stance, bokken held aloft in the air. "Ah, yes. For as I was commencing my daily constitutional around the Tendo grounds, my ears had perchance gotten wind of my love Akane Tendo's clamor of desperation, and, in a fashion befitting that of a true cavalier knight, I rushed immediately to answer her distraught cries—"

"Be still, my heart, eh, Akane?" Nabiki muttered dryly.

"Ah, 'tis true!" Kunou swept his hand through his curly brown hair in a grand gesture. "For Akane Tendo is none else but my one true love—" He paused, then looked furtively about. "And, ah—dost thou wish to inform me on the whereabouts of the beautous pig-tailed girl...?"

"A word of advice, brother dear," interrupted Kodachi. "If you're looking to smite my Ranma-darling today, then you won't find him here."

Kunou regarded at his sister wildly. "Not here? Then whence is the scoundrel?"

"That's what we're trying to find out!" Akane yelled. "But if you two don't give it a rest we're never gonna reach him—I mean them—in time!"

"Katsunishiki! Wait!" a muffled female voice cried out.

Yet another Tendo dojo wall came falling down. It was remarkable, really, that the room was still standing throughout the destruction. This time, though, the source of the demolition was not some martial artist, but an incredibly huge white pig.

The group froze while Soun's wailing only increased in volume.

"Ye _gads_!" bellowed Kunou, eyes goggling. "What vile creature is this?"

"It's a pig, Kunou-baby," Nabiki murmured. "It's a really, really, really _big _pig..."

The huge swine snorted derisively and began to stomp its hooves on the floor, creating a series of tremors that rattled the onlookers' teeth. Even Nabiki had the sense to look nervous.

A moment later, a young girl sprinted into the room through the gigantic hole and soothed the mammoth pig.

"Katsunishiki! How many times did I tell you not to do tha—" She stopped short as she became aware of her chagrined audience. "Oh. Hello."

Nabiki was the first to regain her powers of speech. "I take it that this's your pig, ne?"

The girl smoothed the somewhat rumpled sundress she was wearing. "Uhm, yes," she answered, appearing embarrassed. "And I—uh, I'm really sorry about that wall. You see, Katsunishiki here sometimes gets excited when he knows something and it gets hard to control him—"

Ukyou, meanwhile, had been rifling through her memory banks. "Wait a minute," she said. "Could your name be...Akari Unryuu?"

The girl brightened considerably. "Yes, I am. How did you know? I just arrived in town and—" She grew hopeful. "Did Ryouga-sama mention me to you?"

Ukyou blinked. "R-Ryouga? Uhm, yeah. He said you were—ah—"

"You're Ryouga's _girlfriend_?"

Akari turned a delicate pink at this. "Well, actually we—" As she riveted her gaze on the speaker, her eyes lighted up in recognition. "Akane? Akane Tendo?"

Akane nodded in confirmation, still perplexed.

"So this _is_ the Tendo dojo!" Akari exulted. "Katsunishiki _was_ right after all! Ryouga was always asking for the directions to this place..."

Ukyou watched her speculatively, her brows knitting together in a tiny frown. Maybe it was just her imagination, but somehow that sweet smile that she had on her face appeared rigidly artificial. Once or twice she thought she saw the other girl glance at Akane in a faintly suspicious manner, like how one would appraise a potential rival.

She could distinguish it easily. After all, it was a look that she'd had on her own face countless times when she was around Akane, Shampoo, and Kodachi—girls who had been seeking Ranma Saotome's affections. It was a look that she'd seen mirrored on their faces as well.

There was no doubt in Ukyou's mind about the way Akari felt about Ryouga—never mind the fact that he was still infatuated with Akane. And, as sweet and docile as she was, she was more than willing to fight for Ryouga Hibiki's heart.

The way Ukyou was willing to fight for Ranma's.

"Foul swine!" Kunou hissed at the pig, who promptly headbutted him into a wall.

"So..." Akari glanced around innocently. "Where's Ryouga?"

Ukyou frowned. "That's what we were trying to figure out before...things got out of hand."

"Enough of this." Cologne made her way to the entrance of the dojo, determination etched on her wrinkled visage. "If we have any more unexpected guests barging into this house, then it will be too late for son-in-law and the others." She appraised them questioningly. "Now are you with me or not?"

Soun miraculously ceased his weeping and sprang up. "She's right! Let's go!"

Akane followed. "You got it, dad!"

"Then I must come as well," declared Kunou. "For it is but my life's goal to defend my true love from whatever infidels that cometh forth!"

"And I must save my Ranma darling!" cried Kodachi.

"Yeah, right," scoffed Ukyou. "Not if _I_ get to Ranma-honey first!"

"Oh, please." Akane rolled her eyes.

"Oh my, yes, we must be off," said Kasumi.

"No, Kasumi, you stay here and watch over the house."

"Yes, father."

"And if this has anything to do with my Ryouga-sama, then I want to come!" Akari chimed in.

"Then what are we waiting for?" boomed Soun. "They're counting on us!"

The entire group headed toward the doors. Except for Nabiki Tendo, who hung back, seemingly pensive.

"Nabiki? What is it?" Akane inquired. Soun, Ukyou, Cologne, Kunou, Akari, and Kodachi twisted about simultaneously to look at the middle Tendo daughter.

Nabiki opened her eyes, as though she had just emerged from deep cogitation. "Sorry to throw a bucket of cold water on your plans," said she, "but aren't you all forgetting something?"

"What's that?" wondered Soun.

"You don't _know_ where Ranma and the others are, remember?"

There was a silence as her words sunk in.

_End of Chapter Two_


	4. Chapter 3: Soul's mate

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Three: Soul's Mate

"The eye only sees what the mind is prepared to comprehend."

—Unknown

Mousse groaned, floundering somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. As his senses began to clear somewhat, he automatically commenced a mental check of his current condition.

He felt sore all over and peculiarly lethargic, yet curiously refreshed. A dull nagging pain pounded at the back of his skull. On a whim, he attempted to move his left arm.

He couldn't.

After some contemplation, he tried to stir his right leg.

Ditto. No sensation at all.

Panic flooded through him. Was he immobilized? Had he lost all control over all physical action? Or had his limbs all been amputated?

The thought made him positively ill.

Then he shivered as he felt something metal against his wrists and ankles.

He was strapped to some vertical surface, bound via shackles and possibly chains. It felt very dungeon-like, like a scene out of some primeval torture chamber.

But instead of the damp, cold atmosphere that was reminiscent of a dungeon, his surroundings felt rather warm, humid, and breezy. Was he outside?

He tried to open his eyes to appraise his environment, but his eyelids refused to comply. His ears, however, could detect the faintest sound of night crickets chirping and foliage rustling.

His mind, meanwhile, embarked on its own search-and-locate mission, trying to procure the necessary files from his memory banks.

Everything was hazy. Snatches of images danced through his mind, and he remebered hearing footsteps behind him in that deserted alleyway. Remembered the apparitions that surrounded him, seemingly out of nowhere, with undoubtedly malicious intent. Remembered fighting back, then the splash of water that triggered his curse...

And after that, his mind drew a blank.

Mousse shook his head. He was in human form again, so they must have at least had the consideration to douse him with hot water after they'd taken advantage of his weakness in duck-form. But right now, he was too tired to think about that...

And then he heard something.

"Ai-yah...Ranma?"

His brain screamed out. _Shampoo? What's_ she _doing here?_ He tried to call out her name, but he all he could manage was a croak.

"Ranma, wake up. Ranma!"

Yes, it was definitely her. But _Ranma_?

Mousse felt rage well up inside his soul. So Ranma _was _here. And even now Shampoo was fussing over him, giving no thought whatsoever to the danger in this situation she was in.

"Sh-Shampoo..." he rasped.

"Mousse?" She sounded astonished. "Mousse, you awake now, yes?"

"A-are you all right? Are you shackled as well?"

"Shampoo fine, Mousse—just have big headache. Shampoo no move, either. But Ranma...Ranma no wake up..."

_Well, well. Looks like he couldn't handle the attackers either, _thought Mousse, a tad smugly.

"Wake up, son! Dammit, wake up!"

Mousse blinked. That sounded like Ranma's father.

"RANMAAA! What've you gotten us into _now_?"

And _that_ sounded like Ryouga Hibiki.

The gears in Mousse's brain began to turn. Ranma, his father, Ryouga, Shampoo, and him. What could have induced their attackers to grab them, instead of, say, a megapervert like Happosai or a nutcase like Principal Kunou?

There had to be some connection between them. Then it hit him.

_The curse. Jusenkyo's curse. We're all cursed..._

Ranma turned female every time he got drenched with cold water. Shampoo became a cat when wet, and Mousse himself turned into a duck. He suspected that Mr. Saotome was that giant panda that hung around the Tendo domicile all the time—he recognized those beady eyes—and Ryouga turned into a little black piglet which had been christened P-Chan by Akane Tendo.

So, if the dual-form factor played a major part in their kidnapping, then how come? Was there something more ominous in the Jusenkyo curse than they were aware of so far?

It was a question to ponder later. For the moment, Ranma was unconscious, Shampoo had been rendered immobile as well, Mr. Saotome didn't seem to know any way to escape, and Ryouga was too busy yelling at Ranma to even consider escaping.

He could hear something humming, and he still couldn't open his eyes. But there were bits and strains of a lowered conversation in the distance. For any other man, the sound would have gone unnoticed. For Mousse's Chinese Amazon-trained ears, however, it was scarcely audible.

The conversation was in a strange tongue. Then, without warning, it lapsed into Japanese.

"Are the upperworlders ready?"

"Indubitably. Are the preparations in order?"

"Indeed." There was a third voice. "They will be taken care of once the Emperor gives the command."

Whoever these people were, Mousse concluded, they were nuts.

"And their Tama-Tebako?" a fourth voice demanded.

"I have them right here," said a fifth voice.

"Then the ceremony will proceed." The final voice was unnerving.

And whoever these people were, Mousse realized, they also meant business.

"Will this one do?" Akari asked. "Got it this morning. It's the most accurate one the manager could produce."

Ukyou took the proffered map and spread it flat on the floor. "This'll do just fine, sugar."

Akane peered over her shoulder. "All right, so what's the plan?"

Cologne studied the map from her perch on Ukyou's shoulder. "Well, I suggest we start by pinpointing the spots where son-in-law, Shampoo, and the others were attacked. We will see where we go from there."

"O-kaay." Ukyou examined the map of Nerima, noting rather absently that in the key box along with the necessary stats was a comparison of the town's property values and a comprehensive list of the Places In Nerima To Avoid Like Hell. She deliberately opted to ignore it.

"I don't understand what all this has to do with finding my Ranma darling," Kodachi sniffed haughtily.

"Big surprise," Akane muttered under her breath.

"Akane Tendo! Come into my arms, my love!" yelled Kunou.

Akane distractedly punched him into the wall. "Can we hurry this up, please?" she complained, jerking her finger back at Kunou's prone form. "He's getting more restless by the minute!"

They all leaned over hurriedly to inspect the map.

"Over there!" Soun reached over and poked at a certain point on the paper with his index finger. "That street over there near the market—that's where Saotome disappeared."

"And that's the place where I found the cloth," said Cologne. She pointed to a vicinity about seven blocks away from the Nekohantan, not far away from the place Soun had singled out. "That's where Shampoo vanished. And here—" She backtracked a few blocks back. "—is where I presume Mousse was taken."

"And Ryouga's ki-blast came from this part," volunteered Ukyou, indicating a site near the bridge. "I was just a couple of blocks behind when I saw the explosion."

"And here is where son-in-law was abducted." Cologne jabbed at the map with the tip of her staff. "We were right on the school grounds of Furinkan High."

"There has to be a pattern here," speculated Akane.

"Is there a body of water nearby?" Cologne spoke up.

Several heads oscillated to face her.

"Water?" repeated Kasumi.

Cologne closed her eyes. "Trust me."

"Well, yes." Akane studied the map more closely, her brow furrowing. "In fact, there're several. There's that river at the back of the hill near Furinkan High, the lake near the park..."

"Anyone got a pen?" Nabiki asked.

Akari produced one immediately. Nabiki accepted the writing implement and uncapped it. "Mind if I mark the map?" she queried casually.

"Oh, not at all," replied Akari.

Nabiki leaned over and, to the spectators' surprise, circled the locations of the kidnappings with thick red ink.

"Now," she declared, recapping the pen, "can you see anything?"

The marked places formed a huge circle—a little uneven, but nonetheless a circle.

"Oh my," Kasumi breathed. "And look in the middle..."

"That's it!" Akane exclaimed in excitement. "The canal near the bridge! Nabiki, you're a genius!"

Nabiki smirked. "So I've been told. No charge this time, though."

"Not bad at all," Cologne remarked, impressed.

Soun, as was his habit, burst promptly into tears. "I'm so proud of my little girl!"

"I'm sure you mean that, Daddy."

Akane jumped up, shifting once more into unstoppable-Akane-Tendo mode. "All right, we know where they are," she announced confidently. "Mr. Saotome, Mousse, Shampoo, Ryouga, and Ranma—it's up to us to rescue them from those Shoryuu jerks." She grinned wickedly, rolling up the sleeves of her dress, an indication of much violence to come. "Feel like kicking some butt tonight?"

The answer was a resounding yes, with even Katsunishiki snorting his agreement.

And with that, a series of silhouettes filed out of the dojo, one by one: a girl wearing a dress uniform, a two-foot tall crone utilizing a stick as a means of transportation, a man charging forward with a single fist, a girl wielding a monolithic spatula, a girl thrashing a ribbon-whip amidst bubbles of insane chortling, a young man recklessly swinging a bokken, a girl relentlessly counting yen, and a girl riding atop a pig of ungodly proportions.

A young woman waved cheerfully from the open doorway. "Good luck!"

It was an odd procession of figures that charged out into the warm Nerima night.

"FALL ALREADY! DAMN YOU, _FALL_!"

Ryouga heaved yet another concrete boulder at the energy wall.

CRASH

The boulder was promptly smashed into little pieces, and the wall remained there, impassive and unyielding and shimmery as ever.

Ryouga dropped to his knees, breathing hard from the exertion. He had flung about ten or eleven chunks of rock against the barrier in an attempt to somehow disable it, but to no avail. And right now, he was just beginning to realize that maybe he was just wasting his time trying to find a way beyond this kind of prison. Besides, his supply of concrete—the dam-like structure behind him—was running out.

"Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken!"

Ryouga looked to his left and watched as Ranma unleashed his Chestnut Punch technique on the thick bars that lined his prison.

"_Argh_! Dammit!"

Ranma pressed his stinging fist to his mouth and kicked savagely at the bars, much to Ryouga's amusement.

"Your Chestnut Punch thing not working, Ranma?"

Ranma scowled at him. "I really don't need this right now, Ryouga, all right? I've gotta get outta here somehow. 'Sides, it ain't like you're makin' any more progress than me."

Ryouga glowered back at his rival. "Oh, yeah? Well, at least you aren't stuck in—in some kind of energy bubble! Now if _I_ were in there, I'd just punch a hole through the wall and get it over with!"

"And if _I_ were stuck in some kind of energy bubble, I bet I could find some way out by actually usin' my brain 'steada brute strength!"

"Will you two pleasesave your petty squabbles for later?" snapped Mousse, who was definitely wide-awake now. He tugged at his shackles, rattling the chains. "We are not going to go anywhere if you two keep on arguing instead of thinking up ways to get outta here!"

"Mousse, you leave Ranma alone!" Shampoo commanded tartly.

His spine buckled at his love's interjection. "Buh-buh-but Shampoo, w-we are going to be sacrificed..."

"Hold it—_sacrifice_?" Genma demanded. "What are you talking about?"

"I overheard our captors talking," said Mousse sullenly. "It seems we are to participate in some sort of ceremony. And if there's a ceremony associated with a seriously unbalanced cult like that, then it's inevitable that there should be some form of sacrifice..."

Ranma peered through his cell bars. "Oh, I dunno," he remarked casually. "Maybe they're just firing up the grill for some special entrees—like, say, Duck L'Mousse and Ryouga Pork-kebabs."

"That's not funny, Ranma!" Ryouga snarled.

Genma was thinking: a rare undetaking, to say the least. "Wait a minute—when they attacked all of you, did they first use water to revert you to your cursed forms?"

Mousse and Shampoo nodded, followed by Ranma.

Ryouga cracked his knuckles. "They pulled that trick on me, too. Those cowards couldn't handle me in my normal form so they used water to turn me into—"

"P-Chan!" Ranma announced, grinning like a madman in spite of the direness of their straits. "Of course! Maybe they needed to bring home the bacon, ne?"

Ryouga looked stunned. Then his hands clenched into fists as his body began to radiate an alarming battle aura. "RANMAAAA, PREPARE TO D—"

His doomsday speech was interrupted by the intercession of a deep, echoing voice.

"I presume you all are prepared, yes?"

They all looked at the speaker. He was tall and gaunt, with high cheekbones, a fiery red beard, and oddly luminous eyes. His robes were festooned with gold and red designs and symbols, and in his hand was a magnificent gold staff with a mounted dragon's head.

Ranma narrowed his eyes. There again. That dragon motif. The people responsible for their abductions were probably some sort of fanatical cult. But still, the warriors who attacked him wearing that same dragon mantle were definitely not a bunch of zealots looking for kicks. Ranma had no way of proving it, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something far more to this "cult" than what he saw.

An ominous smile tugged at the corners of the man's lips. It looked more like a grimace. "It is a pity that you five must die. For more years that you can possibly fathom, we have hunted your kind down, whittling away at our only source of opposition, until there would be a day when you no longer existed..." He gestured at the five of them with a sweep of his staff. "You are the last of the line, and after tonight's ceremony, there will be nothing to stop the Dynasty."

Shampoo strained against her manacles. "Shampoo no care about stupid Dynasty! Shampoo only want that you no harm Ranma!"

"Oh, do not worry about that," said the man with mock courteousness. "In fact, there is only one thing we must have from all of you."

"And what's that?" Ranma prompted warily.

He smiled again, and the eyes of the dragon staff began to glow blood-red.

"Your souls."

"There's the canal!" Akari shouted from atop Katsunishiki as he approached the bridge.

The eight of them halted, their gazes fixed on the ground beside the water, straining their eyes against the twilight backdrop.

"Alas, but I still do not comprehend the point of this excursion," declared Kunou regally. "Akane, surely thou hast tired of this—"

"I see them!" Akane interrupted tensely, pointing. "Over there!"

She was pointing to a congregation of about twenty figures, enveloped by a soft, ethereal green glow, gathered at the water's edge, far down below...

"Leggo of me! Argh—dammit, _let go_!"

Ranma cursed under his breath as he was forcibly escorted toward the front of the company. There were seven guards on either side of him, so any chance of escape was made moot. His wrists were shackled behind his back, which normally would have been a mere handicap for him.

Normally.

But this time, he couldn't use his legs. Or his fists. Or his head. He couldn't even move. There seemed to be an invisible cocoon that encompassed his body, rendering his limbs almost immobile.

He was still struggling halfheartedly when he fell to his knees in front of the one who seemed to be the head of the group. It was the same red-bearded man who had spoken to him and the others earlier—the one with the dragon's-head staff.

The pigtailed youth tried to get to his feet, and fell back down. Through the dim fog that swirled around his mind, he could hear the chanting of the congregation that surrounded him, as well as some shouts from Ryouga, Shampoo, and his father, ordering him to snap out of his daze. And then he became aware of a blue-green glow that emitted from an object just above his head.

He looked up.

His reflection stared back at him, framed by a ring of fluorescent mist, from inside a beautiful jewel box nestled in the palm of the red-bearded stranger's hand.

The chanting grew louder, more incessant.

Ranma watched, fascinated, as his reflection shimmered and dissolved into the visage of his female form, who stared at him with the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips. And then it dissolved again—into a face he knew well. It was the face of a girl with a bob haircut and dark eyes...

It was Akane Tendo's face.

And damn it all, Ranma could not tear his gaze away from her.

"What—what're you doing to me?" he stammered. "What _is_ this...?"

Lord Takuma smiled at him, the blue-green light bathing his visage and twisting it into a maze of shadows. "I think, young man, that you already know."

Ranma smiled back at him, his head feeling strangely light. He closed his eyes as his body relaxed. "Oh, yeah. It's my soul, ain't it..."

And then he felt his life force ebb away.

"Akane! Where are you going?" Soun yelled as she hauled herself over the side of the bridge and skidded down the grassy slope.

His daughter barely heard him as she ran toward the gathering, never taking her gaze off the green-hued light. What she saw next made her heart stop in mid-beat.

It was Ranma, on his knees. But what was more alarming was the fine mist that hovered above him, resembling a vaguely familiar human form. Akane took a deep breath.

"_Ranma_!"

Takuma never saw it coming.

Someone had screamed a name, interrupting the ceremony. And then, without warning, a spatula shuriken had hurtled toward him and effectively knocked away the jewel box from his hand.

The box toppled to the ground, and the glow abruptly vanished. The clan was in an uproar. Takuma whipped up his head toward the source of the disturbance, his chiseled features contorted in anger.

There, in front of him, stood a girl with short cropped hair, her face set obstinately, fists clenched at her sides. Behind her, emerging from the umbra, were seven more forms—a long-haired, middle-aged man, a withered old crone clinging to a stick, a young man holding a bokken, a leotard-clad young woman twisting a gymnastic ribbon, a young woman with pageboy-style shoulder-length hair, a girl with long mahogany hair, and a girl in a sundress riding atop an obscenely huge white pig.

There was stony defiance etched on all their faces. And from the way they were standing, it was apparent that they were on the verge of readying themselves into their battle stances.

Takuma raised an eyebrow. Were they actually considering fighting _them_?

"Give them back," the girl in front said in cold, well-modulated tones. "Whoever you are, give them back now."

With a resigned sigh, Takuma nodded at the assembled figures at his side. The clan rippled outwards, as gracefully as any wave. It was battle synchronization in its most deadly form.

If it was a fight they wanted, then it was a fight they were going to get.

Takuma couldn't help but suppress the faintest hint of a sneer. It had been a very, very longwhile since the Dragon clan had been challenged to combat.

This was going to be one interesting night in Nerima.

Cologne observed the formation of the clan with growing apprehension. From what she had seen of their adversaries so far, there was no doubt left in her mind that there was no way in hell that she and her companions were ever going to defeat them. They showed no sign of trepidation at all, even when confronted with the monstrosity that was Katsunishiki.

There were about twenty of them, donned in ancient samurai garb, complete with lacquered helmets, layered breastplates, and iron face masks that concealed their mouths and noses. The cloth that they wore was similar to the piece that Cologne had found—a cloth that seemed to be sewn out of a fabric that glimmered as if alive. Adorned all over the fabric were strange characters emblazoned onto the material with gold thread, and the images of various green serpentine creatures that grinned from a gold, red, green, and black background.

There was definitely something eerie, almost supernatural, about these people.

Never in her two hundred seventy-five years had Cologne imagined that she would actually bear witness to a supposed myth that had been passed from her ancestors in whispered tones. Never had she imagined that she would even have been bestowed the honor of participating in a battle against a clan that had been drawn from the very heart of legend.

She readied her battle-stick as the apparitions surged closer. Her blood was of a Chinese Amazon, and she would die first before she would fall to any one—even the legendary clan of the Dragon.

They had subconsciously arranged themselves into a defensive circle, all eight of them, as their adversaries circled them, flowing as smoothly as water in a fast-flowing river, moving as if connected with a psychic rapport.

After some seconds of evaluating the motley group, the Shoryuu converged upon them.

Takuma was surveying the melee below him when he became aware of that all-too-familiar humming sound.

He frowned, slightly baffled, then became aware of a light that began to pulse from his right. He turned to face the source. Sure enough, he saw what he had expected to see.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice detachedly polite.

I want you back here. All of you. _Now_.

Confusion flickered briefly through Takuma's ice-cold blue eyes. "You wish us to leave? But—but we have not even finished the ritual—"

I don't care. The boy's tone was cool and indifferent, and yet imperious enough to make Takuma think twice before questioning his orders. Order the warriors to retreat. Leave the five Cursed alone. Do you understand?

"But if they are still alive, then what of the Dynasty—?"

Trust me, old man. I have a far more...interesting way to deal with these distractions. Now call off the clan.

"Y-yes, my Emperor. A-at once."

And _I_ don't want any of them hurt. Not any of the Cursed nor any of their friends. Not one. Do you hear me, Takuma?

"You have my word...Empress," Takuma muttered. He picked up his staff, regarded somberly it for a minute, and then raised it up high.

A crack of red thunder sliced its fingers across the night sky.

Flames.

Red flames.

One second, the eight of them had been tensing themselves for the incoming onslaught that was rushing toward them, and the next second, their visions were awash with red flames.

Soun, Akane, Kunou, and Cologne had experienced something similar before, when Prince Toma of Togenkyou Island had conjured up an illusion of blue fire as a deterrence in order for him to escape.

But even Toma's illusions had never felt so real.

This time they could feel the intense heat, hear the crackling of the flames licking at their ankles and elbows, almost _smell _their own flesh baking.

It did not help matters to see the Shoryuu clan charging at them through the inferno, swords flashing, armor gleaming, their eyes glittering with fierce determination.

Akane nervously readied herself, and sensed the other seven doing the same, even though they all knew that their combined efforts would be almost useless against the approaching hordes.

The clan was almost upon them when they were all suddenly assailed with a flash of immense red light.

A second later, the brightness faded.

And the only ones standing in the middle of the battlefield were Akane, Akari, Soun, Nabiki, Katsunishiki, Kunou, Kodachi, and Cologne, surrounded by only the sound of crickets and the rustle of dry grass.

The clan of the Dragon, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen.

"Ranma? Ranma!"

Ranma grimaced as he felt someone slapping him. His first instinct was to sit up and yell at the guilty party, but somehow he didn't even have the strength to open his eyes. "Ouch, ouch, ouch," he mumbled. "Stop that, y-you crazy macho tomboy...y'makin' my head...hurt..."

"Ranma! You're okay!" Akane cried in relief. "You jerk! I thought—I thought you were—"

"Geez, Akane, you sound like you're worried'bout me, ya know."

"Well, I—I, ah—" Akane tried not to acknowledge the faintest trace of a blush on her cheeks.

"Didn't wanta lose your best test subject for your cookin', arent'cha?"

Every indication of compassion in Akane's eyes evaporated as she raised her hand to give him a concussion-inducing slap. "Why, you—"

"Ohohohohoho_hoh_! Ranma-darling!"

"I shall smite thee like the cur thou art, Saotome!"

"I'm in hell," mumbled Ranma, eyes still shut. "Yup, I've died and gone to hell."

Soun knelt by Ranma's side, visage grim. "Son, where are the others?"

Ranma groaned and pointed weakly to the right. "Last time I heard 'em, they were yellin' at me from that direction."

"No need to look for us, Tendo, old friend. We're all right."

The group turned simultaneously toward the voice.

Genma, Ryouga, Shampoo and Mousse emerged slowly from the shadows below the bridge, looking exhausted but none the worse from the whole experience.

"Saotome!" bawled Soun. "You're alive!"

"But of course," replied Genma, smirking through his missing front teeth. "You didn't actually think that anyone could have defeated _this_ master, eh, Tendo?"

"Heheheh...indeed, Saotome."

Nabiki rolled her eyes. Ranma would have done the same had his eyes been open.

"Great-grandmother!" Shampoo called. And then she spied Ranma on the ground. "Airen!" She flew over and wrapped his defenseless form in a hug—much to Akane's, Ukyou's, Kodachi's, and Mousse's aggravation.

"Ryouga!"

Ryouga lifted his head wearily, and was stunned to see a pretty young girl running ecstatically toward him, followed by a huge white pig.

"A-a-a-a-a—" was all he managed to croak out before she threw herself blissfully in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're all right!" Akari whispered, burying her face in his chest.

Ryouga was speechless. Even though he and Akari had been going out steadily for a month now, he was still knocked senseless when she demonstrated any show of physical affection toward him. Not to mention that he'd expected Akari to be furious at him for departing his surrogate home in the country because he was still in love with Akane Tendo. Oh, he'd told her as delicately as he could about his mixed emotions before packing up for his trek back to Nerima—and all that did was rouse her supposedly deceased grandfather out of his grave. From there, Grandfather Unryuu had made that earth-shattering decision that he and Akari move from the country to the city in order that she pursue her conjectural fiance properly. All that trouble, all in the name of love.

The problem was, Ryouga wasn't sure about his feelings for her were at the moment. Akari's feelings for him, on the other hand, were so pure and unsullied that he felt like a two-timing, lowlife jerk.

Akane stood up. "Ryouga!" she exclaimed in concern. "You okay?"

His eyes almost bugged out. "A-Akane! Y-yeah, I'm fine," he squeaked.

Ukyou was able to tear her gaze away from Ranma long enough to observe their exchange. She suppressed a tiny scowl. _What a wimp,_ she thought in irritation. _I wonder what Akari sees in him, anyway...?_

Cologne, meanwhile, was combing the scene of the ceremony when her sharp eyes caught sight of something twinkling amongst the grass. She reached over and picked it up.

It was the most exquisite jewel box she had ever seen. It was lacquered, and imbedded on its walls were unidentifiable semiprecious gems of every shape and color. But what caught her attention the most was the greenish-blue glow flickering weakly inside it.

_The Tama-tebako..._

"Can you get up, boy?" Cologne overheard Genma say to his son.

The gleam inside the box vanished abruptly, leaving behind nothing but a dark, empty velvet interior.

"Yeah, Pop—I'm okay now. Let's just get outta here, all right?"

Very thoughtfully, Cologne pocketed the box somewhere within the folds of her green Chinese robes and followed the others as they headed back for home.

_End of Chapter Three_


	5. Chapter 4: Fairy Tales

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Four: Fairy Tales

"Those stories of man, that which is true but he cannot perceive,  
become tales of whimsy. But even the most whimsical tale will  
always have the smallest grain of truth to it . . ."

—excerpt from the _Nihon Shoki_

It was extremely noisy at the Tendo Dojo later that night.

The reason for the noise was the fact that things had been restored to more-or-less normal. Genma, Shampoo, Mousse, Ryouga, and Ranma were all safe and accounted for, and there was no holding back the inevitable.

"A-Akane! Y-you _cooked_?"

"Yup! Now eat up, Ranma!"

"Ehhh...lissen, Akane, I just came back from the dead. I don't wanna go back, okay?"

WHAM

"Ranmaaa! How dare you speak that way to Akane!"

"Oh? Why's that, Ryouga-sama?"

"A-A-Akari! I—ah, aheheheh..."

"You are _such _a jackass sometimes, Ryouga."

"Stupid crazy Akane, you no hit Ranma that way!"

"Buh-buh-but Shampoo—"

"Keep your hands off my Ranma-darling, you seducer!"

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"Silence! Speak not of the fair Akane Tendo in such desecrating terms, little sister! And as for thou, my love, allow me to demonstrate _my_ affections—"

WHAM

"Oh my."

"Must you hit Kunou-baby so hard, Akane?"

"Look, Nabiki, if _you _want him, he's all yours!"

"Oh, I don't want _him_—just his monetary...assets."

"You know, Saotome, I'm beginning to think that I have too much hospitality."

"Indeed, Tendo, indeed. If you aren't careful, you just might find yourself with a couple of ungrateful freeloaders."

"Isn't that the truth."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

The dining room was crowded this time. Genma and Soun were seated at the dining room table, with Genma devouring bowl after bowl of soba. Ranma was at the other end of the table, also gobbling up food like there was no tomorrow, with Shampoo and Kodachi on each side of him, and Akane glaring at him from the right side, beside Shampoo. Ukyou sat across from Akane, on the left side. Beside her was Ryouga, who was helping himself to platters of teriyaki—which, thankfully, was of the beef variety—and on his other side was Akari, watching him in fascination, while Katsunishiki dozed beside her. Across the table was Mousse, squatting next to Shampoo, who in turn seemed oblivious to him. Kunou, who had been unable to snag a place next to his beloved Akane, had been relegated to a seat next to Mousse, much to his displeasure. Nabiki sat beside Kunou, immersed in her scheme to extract a substantial amount of yen from him in exchange for a seat next to Akane. Kasumi, was, as usual, busy in the kitchen as she prepared second and third helpings for the guests' insatiable appetites. Cologne had isolated herself in a corner of the room, absorbed in her own ruminations.

"Hey," Ranma mumbled between mouthfuls of noodles, "haven't I seen ya around b'fore?" He gestured at Akari with his chopsticks.

"Yes, it's me. Akari Unryuu. Nice to see you again, Ranma. Ryouga-sama's told me so much about you." Akari smiled sweetly and draped her arms around a flabbergasted Ryouga, who promptly began to cough.

"Oh, really?" Ranma cocked an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Oh, like how you're a dishonorable, arrogant jerk, and the terrible way you treat Akane all the time and—"

"I think I get the point," Ranma remarked dryly.

"Well, it's the truth," snapped his rival.

Ranma watched Akari inquisitively. "So...you're good friends with Ryouga now, huh?"

Akari beamed. "Well, actually, we've been dating."

Ryouga nearly choked on a piece of meat. His face was burning as he shot a furtive look at an intently listening Akane.

The pigtailed boy leaned closer to Akari, appraising her from head to toe. "Whoa. You're aren't really serious, are you? You sure ya ain't sick or somethin'?"

Akari shook her head.

Ranma let out a small whistle. "Oh, man. She's serious." He grinned mischievously at a thoroughly embarrassed-looking Ryouga. "Nice goin'. Didn't think you had it in you, pig-boy."

The bandannaed boy glared at him, eating implements poised in midair. "Don't call me that, you half-girl hentai!"

Shampoo retaliated for Ranma by glowering at Ryouga. "You no talk like that to Ranma!"

"Yes," declared Kodachi, "you leave my husband alone!"

Ukyou pinned her with a baleful stare. "Your husband, sugar? I think your brain's gone off-duty." She tossed Ranma a bright smile. "You're _my_ fiance, right, Ranchan?"

Ranma replied with an unintelligible mumble as he dug into the teriyaki platter.

Shampoo objected. "Spatula-girl have brain many times smaller than her head! Ranma _Shampoo's_ husband!"

"I can't believe you sometimes, Ranma," Akane hissed at him. "Honestly, this scene's really getting old."

Ranma shrugged. "Lighten up, Akane. I can't help it if I'm more popular than an uncute tomboy like you now, can I? I mean—urk"

He barely managed to scramble away as Akane whipped out a gigantic mallet out of nowhere and brought it down hard on the spot he'd been sitting, birthing a small crater on the bamboo floor.

The entire party jumped to their feet in anticipation of a good Tendo dojo free-for-all. Soun and Genma automatically retreated to the patio.

"So, Tendo," began Genma, very solemnly, "have you found a good insurance company that'll accept you yet?"

"I'm searching, Saotome. I'm searching very hard."

Back inside, the players were getting ready to rumble.

"How dare you try and harm my husband!" shrieked Kodachi, whisking out her gymnastic ribbon. "Akane Tendo, I will no longer permit your presence to foul my Ranma-darling!"

"Wait a minute, Ranma's _my_ fiance!" yelled Ukyou, unstrapping the assault spatula from her back. "If anyone's gonna beat him up, it's me!"

"Aaai-yah!" Shampoo fished out a pair of bonbori from behind her. "None of you no hurt airen, or Shampoo KILL!"

"Worry not, fair goddess, and stand aside," said Kunou grandly. "For I, the great Tatewaki Kunou, shall defend thee from that wretched infidel Saotome!"

"Oh, no, rich boy," Ryouga muttered, cracking his knuckles. "I got first dibs."

"No, _I_ do!" put in Mousse, blades dangling from his sleeves. "This's for poisoning Shampoo's mind, you coward!"

"Aw, gimme a break!" Ranma exclaimed as they ganged up on him. "After all I've been through today, don't I deserve some kind of rest or somethin'?"

"_No_!" Mousse, Kunou, Ryouga, and Akane yelled at him.

"Geez..."

Without warning, Soun and Genma tore through the shoji and tumbled to the floor in a tangled, squirming heap.

"Dad?" Akane burst out.

"Pop?" Ranma seconded.

The two adults turned toward them, and the expressions on their faces were enough to silence the entire room. Then Soun raised a shaking finger to point to the hole they'd inflicted on the shoji.

Outside, starkly outlined in the light of the silver moon, standing steadfast on top of the wall that surrounded the Tendo dojo, was a single figure garbed in the unmistakable armor of the Shoryuu.

For one tense, charged moment, the figure remained motionless as he surveyed the now-silent domicile, watching, waiting.

Then he leaped down from the wall and vanished into the night.

"I don't believe this!" Ranma paced back and forth in agitation. "Are you sayin' that they haven't given up yet? You mean they're gonna follow us for as long as we live?"

"Basically, yes," Cologne responded, seemingly unruffled.

A growl of consternation rose from Ranma's throat, while Shampoo, Mousse, Ryouga, and Genma looked stricken at the revelation.

"Hold on a minute!" Akane commanded, penetrating through their fog of shock like a knife through butter. "This doesn't make sense! They let you guys go free—why'd they bother doing that when they were just gonna keep on tracking you down anyway?"

"Ah, mayhaps they retreated at the sight of I, Tatewaki Kunou, the invincible Blue Thunder of Furinkan High!"

They all ignored him.

"That was no retreat, nor was it any accident," murmured Cologne as she relinquished her cushion at last and shuffled to the middle of the room where she could maintain her audience's attention. "Surely you saw the way they were charging at us—they had no intention of retreating or disappearing. Whatever happened, I am certain that they were brought back to wherever they came from because they chose so."

Shampoo trained her startled gaze on the old woman. "You know about all this, great-grandmother?"

Cologne gave her a tired replica of a smile. "Perhaps I do, great-granddaughter. Perhaps I do."

"Then answer me this, old woman." Genma adjusted his spectacles. "Why _did _they come after us?"

"Yeah—what did we ever do to them?" asked Ryouga, crestfallen. He was totally oblivious to the questioning glances that Akane was throwing his way.

Cologne shook her silver-crowned head. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She paused. "Except maybe falling into certain cursed springs..."

"But why do they persist on chasing us?" Mousse clamped his fists on his folded knees, straining forward. "I know what our connection is—why we five were taken—but I still don't understand why that fact is so important to those people—"

"Believe me, boy, that fact is extremely important to them," hissed Cologne. "I was not even surprised when one of the Shoryuu showed up outside waiting. In fact, I was expecting him to come." She stared at her hushed audience, her tarsieresque eyes narrowing into slivers. "Did you really expect that the Dynasty would leave you be after going to all that trouble to kidnap you and usurp you all of your individual souls?"

Ranma laid his plate of teriyaki down on the table with an audible clang. He studied the corner of the table like it was suddenly the most interesting object in the room. "How did ya know that?" he said at last, sounding strangled. "How'd ya know that they were after our souls...?"

"Our souls..." Genma repeated, as if in awe.

"It was the only thing I could think of," retorted Cologne, searching through the pockets of her robes. "After all, I _did_ find your soul's purported Œvessel'."

And with that, she let a tiny object clatter onto the table.

Ranma gawked at it for several minutes, then picked it up with slightly trembling hands.

The thing turned out to be a little box—specifically, a little lacquer box of haunting exquisiteness, adorned with odd unfamiliar-looking stones and tassels of red silk. Around it was an unfastened ivory-colored silken cord.

It was the last thing Ranma had seen saw before he'd felt himself drift away.

"You all might be interested to know that when the Dragon clan vanished, they also took four more like it," Cologne informed them.

"What is it?" ventured Ukyou softly.

"It is the Tama-Tebako—jewel hand-box."

Akari spoke suddenly. "It looks like something out of a storybook," she mused, gently stroking the tips of the tassels with her fingertips. "The Tama-Tebako...the vessel of one's soul..."

Cologne appraised her, looking pleased. "Very good, child. I assume that you're referring to the story of Urashima Taro, whose very soul was nestled within a box of this sort."

"Since when do fairy-tales have to do with anything?" sniffed Kodachi.

"You may call them fairy-tales at first," boomed the old crone, wagging her stick admonishingly at her, "but if you will bother to inspect them more closely, you will find that these Œfairy-tales' are actually ancient chronicles, preserved over time, which are then interpreted into nothing more than little concoctions of our ancestors' flights of fancy. Fairy-tales indeed. Had Happosai been alive a hundred centuries before, I have no doubt that there would be a Œfairy-tale' devoted to him—the Lord Stealer-Of-Women's-Underthings." She glared at all of them, jabbing her stick at each one in turn. "You are all dealing with a force here that you cannot possibly begin to comprehend—a force that has been alive long before your ancestors even existed. If they single you out for one reason or the other, then you cannot escape them. Do you understand me? You cannotescape them. If they decide that you belong to them, then there they will follow you anywhere, everywhere, even to the very ends of the earth, until the day you die."

There was a brief pause as the gravity and despair of the current situation settled on the group.

"Then...isn't there anything we _can_ do?" Ranma asked miserably.

"You know there is something," Mousse stated. "I don't know how you know, but there has to be something we can do."

"Shampoo no want to live life being stalked," moaned Shampoo.

"They'll get us beforewe even know that we're being stalked," said Genma, on the verge of hysteria.

"They're right," conceded Ryouga, nervously pulling at his black wrist guards. "There's no way we can fight them—it's like they know how to counter our best moves. We can't even touch them." He gestured carelessly at a befuddled Ranma. "I mean, even Ranma couldn't handle them."

Ranma glowered at him. "Oh, yeah? If they didn't catch me off-guard—"

Cologne hopped from the table, her countenance even more wrinkled than usual as she immersed herself in thought. "I must leave."

"—I'd have turned them inta—" Ranma stopped his monologue and gaped, with the rest of the room, at a departing Cologne. "H-hey! Where d'you think you're goin', old ghoul?"

The matriarch turned. "To consult with my fellow Amazon elders, son-in-law," she replied matter-of-factly. "There are some issues that I must clear up first before I can explain to all of you just what exactly went on today. I shall return tomorrow with the answers. Until then, wait for me."

Shampoo blinked. "Tomorrow, great-grandmother?"

Cologne rewarded her with a fond smile. "Yes, granddaughter. I shall close the Nekohantan for a day. You do not have to deliver anything or wait on anyone tomorrow."

"But what about me?" Ranma wanted to know. "I got school tomorrow, remember?"

"Then skip it, son-in-law," said Cologne dismissively.

Genma scrambled up. "Now hold on here! I'm not depriving my son of his meager dose of education just because of this nonsense!"

Cologne shot him a peeved look. "Fine. Would you rather that the clan just kidnap your son again and suck the very soul out of him?"

"Hmmm," said Genma, mulling over the far-from-unpalatable prospect of not having a smart-mouthed, impudent son around. Ranma felt obliged to smack him.

"The rest of you can assume your everyday activities tomorrow. The clan will be sure to leave you unmolested," continued the old woman.

She must have seen the skeptical looks on their faces, because she followed it with a serious, "Trust me. They will not go after anyone else other than the Jusenkyo-cursed. Not even if they thought that you would be the only ones who could bring these five willingly to them."

Then she shifted her gaze toward Ranma, Ryouga, Genma, Mousse, and Shampoo. "As for the five of you, you will all have to be confined here in the meantime. It would be foolish to tempt danger by going your separate ways tonight."

"Wh-whu-what? _Here_?" shrieked Soun.

Mousse looked like he wasn't certain whether to be thankful or not. Shampoo looked like she was in heaven. Ryouga looked dazed. Vastly different thoughts circled around their heads.

"Oh, good!" chirped Kasumi as she caught the last strains of Cologne's harangue. "Overnight guests!"

"Oh, great." Ranma rubbed his temples. "As if we didn't already have a certain pig to shelter in this house."

Ryouga was restrained by Akari in mid-lunge.

"What about you, great-grandmother?" queried Shampoo in concern, as Cologne slid open the shoji.

"I will be fine," responded the old woman. "The Dynasty have no need for me." Before she let herself out, she oscillated one last time to address them. "If you are adamant about going out there tomorrow, then I cannot stop you from going. But expect them to show up. Expect them to fight you." She set her mouth in a tight, grim line. "And expect them to win."

"Not this time," Ranma said softly.

They all gaped at him, astounded.

He grinned. "I have a plan."

There was a lengthy stillness before Ryouga let out a long breath.

"Well, that's it," he announced with grave finality. "We're dead."

This time it was Ranma who was restrained by Akane in mid-lunge.

"Are you sure this plan of yours is gonna work, Ranma?"

Ranma sighed as they trudged together down the corridors that led to their bedrooms. "That's the two hundred fifty-sixth time you've asked me that question, Akane," he pointed out wearily. "I toldja, it _has_ to work. I mean, there ain't no way it can go wrong."

"What if they don't show up when you want them to?"

Ranma did a double take. "Uhm—ah—"

"What if they kidnap you before you can even talk to them?"

Ranma scratched his head frantically. "I'm thinkin', Akane..."

"What if they go for one of the others first instead of you?"

He was racking his brain for some sort of comeback. "Not so fast, Akane...I'm thinkin' here..."

Akane stopped walking and crossed her arms sternly in front of her yellow cotton nightgown. "Oh, honestly, Ranma!" she snorted. "Face it—this whole scheme's too dangerous. It's not going to work!"

Ranma stopped as well, his moonlit features contorted in an irritated frown. "Well, would you rather that I _not _go to school with you at all, Akane? That it?"

Amazement and indignation flooded onto her countenance. "N-no! That's not it at all...I..." She fixed her gaze on her slipper-clad toes, her fingers bunching the soft canary cotton of her nightgown. "I just...I just don't want you to disappear on me like that again, Ranma."

Her last statement was nearly inarticulate and barely comprehensible, but it hit Ranma like a full-force slap on the cheek. Was it possible that she really didn't hate him then? Not even after that joke of a wedding? He hardly dared to even hope.

For a minute he stood there, in his sleeveless white undershirt and worn yellow blue-lined boxers, unable to formulate some sort of response to her sentence. Then he opted for the casual reply. "I thought we weren't talkin' to each other, Akane," he said nonchalantly.

Akane stared at him, as if attempting to gauge what in hell had made him address that topic, of all things. Then again, she felt obligated to explain to him why they were suddenly conversing again after that mutual unspoken agreement they'd made after that wedding disaster. "Well, this doesn't count, Ranma. You were nearly killed..." She hesitated for a moment. "And it's funny, but...after what happened today, it seems silly to be mad about the whole wedding thing, you know?"

"Yeah," agreed Ranma.

They were quiet again.

Then Ranma spoke. "Akane, this plan _is _gonna work, you know."

Akane couldn't rein in the doubt that washed across her face.

"Come on, Akane. You gotta trust me on this. Pop and the others're all for it, and Shampoo's already placed in that Jusenkyo mail-order product for overnight delivery. So if and when those jerks show up at all, I'll be able to fight them on my terms."

Her brows knitted together, and her voice hardened. "I still want in, Ranma."

Ranma gazed at her like she'd grown another head. "We already talked about this, Akane," he told her, as sensibly as he could. "It's too dangerous for someone like y—"

"You mean for someone of my _skills_, right?" Her voice was ominously quiet. Sort of like the gentle hissing of a cobra before the strike.

Ranma gulped. If there was anything Akane didn't want to be reminded of, it was her fighting skills—or lack thereof. "Uhm—no! No! 'Course not!"

It was to no avail, of course. After all, it _was _one in the morning, and an Akane deprived of sleep was an Akane he didn't want to mess with.

"Have it your way, Ranma," she huffed, then stormed down the hallway ahead of him. A quarter-minute later, he heard her slam the door of her bedroom with a force that initiated a tremor that could have registered a 9.5 on the Richter scale.

Ranma stood there, motionless.

Then Akane poked her head one more time out of her bedroom door. "And one more thing, Ranma Saotome—"

He looked up.

"—I don't care if I _do_ catch Shampoo on your bed again!"

Now _that_ exit, he was sure, had to be a 10 on the Richter scale.

For some minutes, he remained standing there, still as a statue. Then a tiny smile stole across his mouth. "Man...she's cute when she's angry," he murmured.

With that, he retired to his room for the night.

Ryouga waited for the aftershocks to pass before reclining back down on his futon. He sighed, recalling Akane's outraged parting words to Ranma after the first initial quake. Idly he wondered if that was the kind of goodnight that Ranma received every night.

How different it was when Akane had bid _him_ goodnight. She'd graced him with that gentle smile of hers, made sure that he was comfortable on the futon she'd rolled out for him on the floor, made certain that he had an extra blanket, then whispered, "Good night, Ryouga" before departing to her own bed.

Akane had been so attentive toward him, and so hostile toward Ranma. And yet, there was a certain _something_ between her and Ranma that Ryouga could never, ever make out.

Mousse's snoring at the other side of the room intruded his cogitation for a second, and Ryouga opened his bleary eyes. Mousse was on his side, dead to the world, glasses perched atop his head in an awkward angle, his long raven hair radiating from his head like the spokes of a wheel. Apparently, he'd been too tired to arrange himself in a comfortable position or even conduct his customary checks on his beloved Shampoo, who had taken up residence in the Tendo dojo guest room. Not that Ryouga expected her to actually stay there, of course. She would probably find some way to sneak over to Ranma's bed.

Ryouga scowled. What did that Chinese Amazon girl see in Ranma, anyway? Well, Saotome had beaten her once or twice, but what kind of girl would fall in love with a guy who defeated her?

A Chinese Amazon, of course. It figured.

Still, Ranma certainly didn't seem to return her sentiments. Mousse, on the other hand, was crazy about her, and yet she shot down his romantic fantasies in the most blunt and ignominious ways conceivable.

Could that, speculated Ryouga, be some sort of parallel to his predicament with Ranma and Akane?

Damn.

He turned restlessly in the futon and punched the pillow. All thoughts of the Dragon clan and all that had happened tonight were banished from his head. Instead he began mulling over his usual dilemma.

What did Ranma have that he didn't? Well, for starters, he turned into a girl when he was splashed with cold water. He was the best martial artist in Nerima—for now, anyway, Ryouga vowed to himself..

Also, Ranma had somehow managed to land himself four fiancees: Akane, Kodachi, Shampoo, and Ukyou.

Come to think of it, what did Kodachi ever see in Ranma? Ryouga wrinkled his nose. Never mind. He would rather not know. Shampoo—well, with her it was all about some sort of nutty Amazon tribal law. And Ukyou...what the hell did _she_ see in Ranma, anyway?

Ryouga sat up and pulled off his long-sleeved travelling shirt. For a spring night in Nerima, it was unusually warm.

He collapsed back on the sheets and shut his eyes. He was exhausted from thinking. All he wanted was to drift off to sleep, where he would be free to dream about Akane...

"Ryouga-sama?"

He laid himself flat on his stomach. Damn. He was already beginning to hear things.

"Ryouga. Over here."

The next second he propped himself up on his elbows, shrinking slightly back as his vision was accosted by a brilliant shaft of moonlight. The glare softened somewhat as his eyes adjusted to the glare, and he was astonished to see the slim silhouette of a young girl outlined in the opened sliding doors that led to the patio.

"A-Akari?"

In response, she closed the shoji, strode past Mousse to where Ryouga was sprawled on his futon, and kneeled beside him. "Hello, Ryouga."

Ryouga stared up at her, his throat constricting. Akari Unryuu was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever met—and, seeing as how he spent about seventy percent of his life on a global trek meeting countless girls of different nationalities, that was certainly saying something. "Akari...what—what're you doing here?"

She tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear, a demure gesture. "Grandfather was wondering where you were. I told him, and he insisted that I stay with you, no matter what."

Ryouga chewed on his bottom lip. He'd long suspected that maybe the old man was resorting to great lengths to fixing him up as his granddaughter's fiance, and now that suspicion had just been confirmed. "You know...Akari, you really didn't have to do that—"

"It's all right, Ryouga," she interrupted him softly. "I _want_ to stay with you."

The expression on his face was something between incredulity and gratefulness. When she slipped onto the futon beside him, he didn't protest. They'd spent more than one night curled up in the same bed for warmth during the winter nights, in the guest room of Grandfather Unryuu's country house. It was an example of the trust they retained between each other, and oddly enough, the old man didn't seem to mind. For some reason—who was he kidding; Ryouga _knew_ the reason—he actually encouraged it.

Ryouga shifted his body a little, mildly surprised that he couldn't even feel his nose heating, even though Akari's clothes were the only things that separated his skin from hers. He supposed that it was because he was already accustomed to her so close to him.

"Hey, Akari?" His voice was muffled in her hair.

"Yes, Ryouga-sama?"

"You're not mad at me, are you? Not even after I decided to leave?"

She snuggled closer to him. "No. And neither was Grandfather. He just felt that you needed a little more time to think."

"Akari," Ryouga began tentatively, "you already know I still love Akane."

She nodded, the crown of her head colliding gently against his chin. "I know that, Ryouga-sama. But I'm not going to stand by and give you up without a fight. Not this time."

He just nodded, not trusting himself to say another word. He tightened his arms around her and fell asleep, too fatigued to care what the other occupants of the house would say if they caught him in this compromising position.

Akari promptly fell asleep as well.

Outside, several figures watched from their hidden crevices, alert and unwavering, never ceasing their vigil on the Tendo dojo.

Inside, their targets slumbered in blissful ignorance.

Ranma tapped his pencil faster against his desk.

The coil of tension in his stomach was stretched tight, almost to the breaking point, and he was literally aching for something—anything—to happen in order to break the state of monotony that currently dominated.

His morning had gone well enough under the circumstances. He'd woken up with Shampoo curled up beside him on his futon, and Mousse had chosen that exact moment to come barging in screaming, "How dare you defile my beautiful Shampoooo!"

Of course, this had only earned the Chinese boy the reward of getting up close and personal with the bedroom wall, compliments of his indignant would-be ladylove. Ranma was only glad that Akane had overslept, otherwise he was certain that he would be would be getting intimate with the bedroom wall as well.

He'd bathed, dressed himself in a sleeveless white Chinese shirt and dark pants—for the day promised to be a warm one—then headed down for a hurried breakfast. On the way he'd bumped into a sullen Akane, who promptly demonstrated to him in no uncertain terms that she had no intention of speaking to him today.

After nursing his swollen jaw a bit, Ranma had quickly devoured his breakfast and checked the living room to make sure that a certain someone was up and about and hadn't wandered off in the night trying to locate the bathroom. His sudden entrance, of course, had scared the hell out of a shirtless Ryouga, who'd been cuddling in his futon with a sleepy-looking Akari. His rival had practically flown out of his bed and dived into his shirt with blazing speed, much to Ranma's amusement. A few rounds of teasing and prodding from Ranma regarding Ryouga's nocturnal activities had resulted in yet another blow to an already sore jaw.

Ranma had staggered away from the pig-couple after informing the male half that he was ready to depart for school, and was subjected to another round of nursing by Kasumi before setting out with Akane towards Furinkan High.

The trip had gone smoothly, with no sign of any armored samurai figures or whatnot. Predictably enough, Akane ignored him the whole way.

And now, safely in class, Ranma pondered the situation, twirling his pencil over and over in his hands. _It's for her own_ goodhe thought stubbornly. _These people're dangerous. I ain't lettin' her get in danger's way cause of me._ _I mean, it happened back in Mount Phoenix, and I'll be damned before I let that happen again..._

Ranma heard a snap and quickly glanced down at his hands. Great. He'd broken his pencil in half. A dry chuckle forced its way out of his throat despite himself.

_Geez, man, get a grip on yourself! It ain't like—_

"Perhaps you would like to share your thoughts with us, Mr. Saotome?"

The stern, dry-humored voice of Sensei Tanaka was enough to bring Ranma out of his trance-like state. "Uh...what?"

Sensei Tanaka's haughty gaze drilled at him through strict steel-rimmed spectacles. "You were not paying attention to the lecture, Mr. Saotome."

In reply, Ranma eased back languidly in his chair, acutely aware of his classmates' eyes trained on him. "Uh, sorry, 'bout that, Teach. I guess I was thinking 'bout more important things..."

He hadn't meant for it to come out that way, but by the time the thought registered in his mind, it was already too late. "Mr. Saotome," fumed the sensei, "I have had quite enough of your sarcastic remarks. I see that your reputation indeed serves you well—"

Ranma sighed. The Hinako incident. His attack on the principal with the pineapple fetish. His penchant for entangling himself in countless exhibitions of martial arts violence in and out of the campus. His reputation was notorious indeed.

"RANMA SAOTOME."

He jerked up, blinking at the deep, authoritative tone. A swift glimpse at his fellow students told him right off that this wasn't Sensei Tanaka speaking.

"RANMA SAOTOME. SHOW YOURSELF TO US NOW."

That voice...it wasn't human. Loud and soft at the same time, close yet distant, smooth yet guttural. It reverberated throughout the history classroom's walls, sending chills through Ranma's spine.

Ranma slowly got up from his desk, and the entire class followed.

"DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT YOU COULD ESCAPE US?"

Outside, through the enormous sliding glass windows of the room, Ranma could see them, all thirty of them, clad in their iridescent armor of red, gold, green, and black, gathered in a half-circle. In the middle was a figure garbed in red and gold, whom Ranma pinpointed easily as the leader of the throng: the same one who'd brought Ranma down the first time he'd faced off against them.

"_FACE _US, SAOTOME!"

Furinkan High stood still and silent, with the entire student body holding their breath as they congregated at the eastern windows.

Hiroshi and Daisuke appeared at Ranma's side, scanning the regiment below them with rapidly increasing alarm.

"Geez, man, what'd ya get yourself into thistime?" muttered Daisuke.

Hiroshi noted the grimness on his friend's face with growing apprehension. "Ranma," he began cautiously, "what're you gonna do now?"

Shino snorted in derision as he turned away from the building. These upperworlders. All cowards. He would not have even considered the thought of calling out the target for a showdown if Lord Takuma had not insisted upon it. Takuma had been certain that the target would come.

The clan wasn't even supposed to _be_ here. The emperor and empress had forbidden them from hunting down the last five. But then again, Shino knew better than to question Lord Takuma's orders.

He was on the verge of commanding the others to disperse, when without warning, a white blur streaked down from a third-story window and came to a rest directly in front of the clan.

Shino stared. In front of him was a boy, about sixteen years old, clad in a white Chinese shirt and dark pants, with thick black hair tied tightly back into a pigtail. His gray-blue eyes burned with iron determination.

The leader of the warrior clan smothered a satisfied grin. "Ranma Saotome, I presume?"

The boy didn't bat an eye. "Bingo."

_End of Chapter Four_


	6. Chapter 5: Rematch

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Five: Rematch

"There is a reason why we mortals are separate from gods . . ."

—excerpt from _Sho shen ji_ ("The Book of Seeking Immortals")

Akane elbowed her way past the crowd that had flocked to the windows of her home economics class, straining to get a glimpse of the scene down below. To her exasperation, all she could discern over the dozens of her fellow students' heads was a dark smudge against the brilliant green of the school front lawn.

"See anything, Akane? Has Ranchan answered their challenge yet?"

Akane whirled around to face a tense-looking Ukyou, dressed as usual in her boy's school uniform, complete with the bandoleer where she kept her miniature throw spatulas. In answer to her query, Akane vehemently shook her head. "No. I don't know what's happening. We can't even get a good view from this building—I—I just wish I knew what was going on, Ukyou!"

Ukyou nodded. "I wish I did, too, Akane." She clasped her hands together in trepidation. "I hope Ranchan doesn't get hurt out there..."

Akane swiveled her head toward the windows again, feeling utterly helpless.

_Damn you, Ranma,_ she cursed him silently, her chest constricting with worry. _Why couldn't you let me in on this? Why do you keep_ _pushing me away? Why can't you just accept my help? Why can't you just accept that I—_

"Did Ranchan tell you about his plan?" Ukyou inquired softly.

Akane clenched her teeth. "No. The baka sure didn't want me involved." She glanced at the other girl at the corner of her eye. "But I suppose he told _you_, right?"

Inwardly she was aghast at the way she'd said it; she hadn't meant to inject that much resentment into her words. After all, Ukyou had only asked that question out of concern, and she certainly didn't want to give Ukyou the impression that she was jealous, right?

Ukyou, thankfully, was too engrossed in fretting over Ranma that she hadn't noticed the involuntary venom in Akane's response. "Actually, Ranchan didn't tell me anything either. He sent me and Akari and Kodachi outta the room after you. Then he sent out Shampoo, too."

Akane gaped at her with growing realization. So she _hadn_'t been the only one Ranma and the others had concealed their scheme from. For some reason, Akane couldn't decide whether she should be mad or glad.

"Aai-yah!"

The two of them were barely able to avoid the bicycle that careened toward them. As they watched in annoyance and disbelief, Shampoo jumped out of her tinkling two-wheeled transport and made a beeline toward the multitude that had accumulated at the windows. Amazingly, no one had noticed her arrival.

Ukyou brushed herself off, vexation registering on her features. "Don't waste your time, sugar. You can't see anything from there."

Shampoo made an annoyed huffing sound and pushed herself away from the glass. Then her eyes locked on the two girls. "Oh. Is you two."

"What're _you_ doing here?" demanded Akane, hands on hips.

"What you think?" Shampoo shot back, crossing her arms. "Shampoo make sure Jusenkyo mail-order product is working—and that I be here to help Ranma fight Dragon people!"

"You're gonna fight alongside Ranma?" Akane balled her hands into fists. She couldn't believe it. Ranma had actually welcomed Shampoo into his plan? This was too insulting. Akane was painfully aware that Shampoo was a better martial artist than her, but never did she think that Ranma would make some sort of decision based solely on _that_.

"Yes!" Shampoo nodded, lavender locks bobbing. "Of course, Ranma tell Shampoo to stay out of fight. If they hurt Ranma, then Shampoo have to hurt them!"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Ukyou, her turquoise eyes dawning with comprehension. "Ranchan tried to make you stay out of it?"

"Yes," confirmed Shampoo. "He no want anyone to get hurt."

The enraged look was terminated in Akane's eyes, only to be replaced with wariness. "Anyone else—or just us girls?"

Ukyou glowered. She knew all too well that Ranchan had this longstanding belief that the fairer sex deserved to be treated like fragile objects that would shatter when handled too roughly. "Well, I'm not gonna stand here without knowing what's happening," she announced curtly, heading toward the door.

"Where you going?" asked Shampoo.

"To the roof. Can you think of a better place to get a good view of Ranchan and those Dragon guys?"

"But..." Akane hedged. "We're supposed to be in class..."

"Somehow I think no one's gonna notice, Akane," Ukyou pointed out dryly.

Akane glanced around. Ask a stupid question, she thought. The entire room seemed riveted on what was happening outside, including Miss Kaneda, who had apparently abandoned her teacher's instincts for her stronger voyeuristic ones.

"Shampoo come with you," offered Shampoo.

A dismayed murmur arose from the students as they continued to watch.

"Come on, Akane, we're missing the action," Ukyou urged impatiently.

Somewhere out there, Akane thought that she heard Ranma yelling. All the compunctions she was harboring swiftly vanished from her mind.

"All right," she declared, her jaw set. "Let's go."

No one noticed the three of them sprint toward the stairwell, least of all Miss Kaneda, who continued to mash her nose onto the windowpane.

"All right, so what do you want from me?" Ranma asked.

Shino cocked his head tauntingly to one side. "We didn't come here to conduct a conversation, Ranma Saotome. We came here to take you back with us. First you, then the other four."

"Take us where?" prompted Ranma incredulously.

A touch of irritation wafted by Shino's masked face for a quarter of a second. "That is of no consequence. All that matters is that you have the curse of Jusenkyo upon you, and that makes you a threat to the Dynasty."

Ranma grimaced. Another prime example of how his curse seemed to orchestrate his life. Being singled out because he'd happened to fall into a cursed Chinese spring—the Spring of Drowned Girl, no less. Fated to switch sex every time he was drenched. Oh, yeah, that sounded like fun. Loads of fun. Barrels of monkeys.

"Yeah, well, I'm touched that you want me to be your mascot and all, but I really didn't ask for this curse, okay? It was an accident..."

"Accident or not, we don't really care," snapped Shino. His muscles tingled, ready to launch himself into battle mode. "So long as that curse hangs over your head, so shall the Dynasty hunt you down until you are dead—_all_ of you."

Through the corner of his eye, Ranma could see the rest of the Dragon clan assuming offensive positions. "So this's all about that stupid curse, huh? What 'bout Pantyhose Taro? And—"

"Disposed of." Shiro smirked, which only made him more maddening in Ranma's book. "And you," he drawled, "have no idea what this is all about. Just like the rest of them. The Cursed ones. Or should I say _Chosen_ ones? It depends, really, on how you look at it..."

Ranma fought to keep the mask of calmness upon his features. "Oh, I get it. So we're important to you, huh? For some reason, you think that this stupid curse gives you a reason to come take our souls." He paused. "Well, think about this, smart guy—what if we get cured? What then?"

The other boy pinned him with a steely glare. "There is no cure. No matter what you may have heard otherwise, it was the Dynasty that was responsible for the destruction of the springs. Insurance in case any of the Jusenkyo victims decided to use them in order to save their souls from us. Unfortunately for the five of you, that alternative has been eliminated, and there are no longer any cursed springs left on this earth that can cure you."

Ranma stood there, stunned, as the significance of his enemy's words slowly sank in.

After a lengthy pause, Shino seemed to reconsider his last statement. "Oh, well, maybe the Springs of Jusenkyo are gone, but..." There was a ghost of a smirk lurking somewhere in the golden depths of his eyes. "...but there is always the Cave of Yasakami..."

_Cave of Yasakami?_ Ranma thought, through the thick fog of shock that had permeated his mind. And somewhere inside, a tiny part of him swelled with hope.

"...a pity, though, that you won't live long enough to see it."

Ranma looked up, still in a daze, and the clan of the Dragon descended upon him.

Hiroshi shoved a random pupil's head out of his line of sight, completely absorbed in what was taking place down in the schoolyard. From this spot, he was able to distinguish about thirty-plus figures, dressed in fancy samurai-type armor, along with helmets that flashed in the rays of the sun and odd-shaped yet deadly-looking swords.

_Damn,_ he thought. _Ranma, you really did it this time..._

He froze as the mood of the crowd surrounding him abruptly switched from curious to horrified.

Daisuke hopped restlessly, trying to peek over the multitude of student heads. "Hey, what's goin' on? What's happening?"

Hiroshi's lips pulled into a tight line as he observed the events that were unfolding down below. "I think the battle's begun," he acknowledged, somewhat agitatedly. "And Ranma's right in the middle of it..."

"Have you guys seen Akane?"

Both Hiroshi and Daisuke were able to tear their gazes from the fight long enough to recognize that two of Akane's closest friends, Sayuri and Yuka, had been standing behind them.

"Naw." Daisuke shook his head, eager to focus once more on the battle. "Didn't see her. Why?"

Yuka and Sayuri traded anxious glances. "Well, she's gone," volunteered Yuka. "Can you spot her down there with Ranma?"

Hiroshi met the two girls' eyes, his countenance dead serious. "Nope. And I hope she stays outta this, 'cause this fight's getting ugly."

They were good.

They were very, very good.

Those had been Ranma's first perceptions of the Shoryuu the first time they'd ambushed him, and right now, it seemed that his perceptions had been disturbingly right on target. Perhaps it was his imagination, but they had actually seemed to get better since their first meeting.

He had to give them credit for that. Instead of catching him off-guard like last time, they took the chance of directly challenging him, duel-to-the-death style. A risky gamble, perhaps, for the subjugation of a target like Ranma Saotome, but it was more a of a game to these people. They'd tarnished their own integrity for the first time by defeating him in a sneak attack, and they were determined to remedy that by drawing him into some sort of showdown.

It was a good thing, therefore, that he had remembered a bit of their fighting style.

Ranma ducked a wickedly-curved blade, then leaped out of the way of an incoming kick. The group reminded him of miniature tornadoes, attacking with alarming speed and dishing out kicks and blows with alarming ferocity. Ranma had no choice but to continuously duck, unable to even administer offense.

It was getting repetitive, he realized. Too much time spent on evading hits instead of dealing them out. At this rate, he would tire faster from all that constant parrying, and against such skilled foes, it was inevitable that one of their hits would eventually find its mark.

Taking advantage of a nanosecond's gap between their blows, Ranma lashed out with a roundhouse that knocked the one nearest him off his feet. Before his comrades would react, he dropped low and swept his rigid leg across the numerous pairs of ankles within his reach, sending them off-balance. Then he disposed of the ones behind him with a backhand and a swooping backwards kick.

He backflipped to a safer corner of the yard to try and collect his jumbled thoughts. All right, so he'd caught them off guard; it was payback for what they'd done the first time they crossed paths. That had to be an achievement in itself. He hadn't even been sure if he was capable of pulling it off.

The self-congratulatory grin on his visage was immediately extinguished as he realized that his foes had recovered briskly from his unexpected assault. They were now back on their feet, as if they weren't even fazed by his performance—as if all the power Ranma had focused into his attack had been nothing. Even now they were swarming toward him, moving with uncanny fluidity, each individual initiating the other's move as if telegraphed via mental transmission.

Ranma forced himself to concentrate on marshaling all his martial arts prowess, in preparation for the more difficult struggle that would follow after this intermission.

Okay, so he'd surprised them. Caught them off guard. Then what? They were onto him now. No doubt they would intensify their blows, reinforce their defenses, raise their speed a notch or two, and unleash more elaborate attacks.

The stakes on this deadly game had just been raised.

They clashed again.

Ranma ducked the first volley of punches, then used the three-second interval to throw a good number of his own attacks, projecting a bit of the speed he utilized in his Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken. It would have been tempting to employ that technique against the attackers, but Ranma was aware that it would all be for naught. The Chestnut Punch technique wasn't developed as an offensive maneuver against multiple opponents, and Ranma wasn't about to waste his endurance by testing that theory.

Using the Hiryuu Shoten Ha seemed to be a good course of action. A move of that much power and force was indeed capable of wiping out several foes at a time. It was potent enough to ensure that they would remain out of commission for Ranma to be the last one standing.

There were a couple of hitches to it, though.

The thing was, Ranma didn't know if he had the stamina to wait until he could get the clan to follow him in a tight, clean spiral, and he seriously doubted that any amount of name-calling could incense these people enough for them to muster even a lukewarm one. He didn't even know how he should insult them. Well, maybe those cheesy-looking helmets they wore, but he knew that it wasn't going to be enough to completely tick them off.

Ranma reeled back suddenly as a two-legged kick caught him on the side of the face. He staggered, lowering his defenses long enough for another aggressor to deliver a rising punch to his jaw.

It almost enough to send Ranma to his knees.

Almost.

With a grunt, he reached out and seized an incoming fist. Before its owner could react, Ranma swung him to a group of his comrades, toppling them like a pile of dominoes. He successfully avoided the flurry of kicks and punches that followed before he regained his focus.

In spite of himself, he managed a smile. Not bad. He'd been duking it out with the Dragon clan for a full minute and a quarter and he was still conscious. This was proceeding rather well...

...and then his ears picked up the distinct rippling sound of water.

"What're they doing?" screamed Akane.

The trio studied at the melee below as they stood on the relative safety of the high school roof.

"That's water," murmured Ukyou, her twisting her fingers together, her gaze still fixed on the commotion. "They're using water to trigger Ranchan's curse."

"That no fair!" declared Shampoo, looking equally troubled.

"They're trying to disable him—that's what they're trying to do," Akane realized, her voice shaking slightly. "Ranma said they used his curse to weaken him. If they trigger his curse, then it's all over..."

SPLASH

Ranma grinned, leaping swiftly to the side.

Perfect.

He lifted his chin and flung the water from his hair and pigtail, scattering the droplets about him, feeling them trickle down the front of his now-soaked Chinese shirt—which, curiously, remained flat.

He was almost certain that he saw the clan recoil in amazement.

"Whassa matter?" he drawled mockingly, raising a pair of unmistakably masculine fists. "No more tricks up your sleeve?"

His opponents traded looks, as if mentally consulting each other, then their gazes roamed to the figure in the red and gold armor. As if in response, the figure slowly raised his hand and splayed open his fingers. Right there, in the middle of his palm was a shimmering, floating ball of water.

Ranma watched with growing horror as his comrades mimicked the trick. Dozens of tiny liquid spheres materialized in their hands.

_Oh...shit._

"Wait a minute—he didn't turn into a girl," stammered Akane, flabbergasted. "He got hit by water—and he didn't turn into a girl."

"But how?" Ukyou piped up, sounding astonished. "Did Ranchan find a cure to his curse?"

Shampoo flashed a wide, complacent smile. "No, he still have curse," she replied. "But thanks to Shampoo, airen be splashed with cold water and still not change into girl. You see, he use waterproof soap Shampoo ordered from Jusenkyo catalog via special delivery last night!"

A light went off in Akane's head. "So _that _was the plan?"

Shampoo shook her head obstinately. "Oh, no. That only half of Ranma's plan. The other half come later, when time is right."

SPLASH

Ranma stifled a yelp as he leaped out of the way of the onrushing liquid.

SPLASH

He reared back.

SPLASH

This was really getting tiring—not to mention annoying.

SPLASH

Ranma rolled across the grass, trying to distance himself from the clan. When he finally set himself on his feet once more, his senses screamed in alarm as a quantity of water was emptied full on him.

He shook the drops out of his eyes before slugging the culprit, then backpedaled so that he was considerably out of reach.

SPLASH

Ranma cursed as he swiped at his waterlogged forehead. He had to learn to move faster. Shampoo's mail-order waterproof soap had kept him in male form so far, but he knew too well that it offered only temporary protection. Too many splashes would grievously affect its potency, and soon it would rinse off his skin in bubbles.

SPLASH

He tugged at his now thoroughly drenched clothes. It was becoming glaringly obvious to him that continuously evading the water-bombs was not an option, and time was already running out.

SPLASH

"What is it? What's wrong?" shrieked Sayuri, as the assemblage by the windows groaned in unison.

Hiroshi faced her, his visage grave. "Ranma's going down," he said quietly. "Those jerks're wearing him down."

"Can't we do anything?" demanded Yuka.

Daisuke shook his head sadly. "I wish there was. But there isn't. Those people'll kill us as soon as look at us. We can't go down there. I'm afraid Ranma's on his own. But he'd want it that way—it's his fight."

"_Arrrgh_!"

Ranma wiped the back of his hand impatiently across his mouth. A quick inspection told him that his lip, indeed, was bleeding slightly.

Damn. They'd tagged him.

A figure advanced on him with a growl, engaging him in a brief round of punch-and-kick before Ranma finally sent him sprawling with a well-placed haymaker.

Ranma had barely recovered his breath when he felt someone hit him hard on his back. He stumbled forward, unseeing, and was greeted by another blow to his stomach.

He was weakening. The blows the clan had rained upon him had left their imprint in bruises and various aches all over his torso. And they were accurate, too, managing to zero in on places were it would hurt the most.

If there was anything he was now convinced of regarding the Dragon clan's attacks, it was that they hurt. They hurt a _lot_. He no longer had the strength to keep dodging the water the clan relentlessly threw his way, and his stamina was all but drained. His tired legs gave in and he collapsed to his knees, his back to the brick wall of the school building.

He was cornered.

To his chagrin, the clan surrounded him instantly, like vultures clustering around a potential meal. Their leader approached him, his tawny eyes gleaming with a hidden sneer.

For a second, Ranma thought that he resembled the dragon's head that had sat on top of their lord's golden staff.

Despite the pain, Ranma was able to level with the youth standing triumphantly before him, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Impressive show, upperworlder," said Shino, his tone cool and unaffected. "Lord Takuma was right when he warned us not to underestimate you. Nonetheless, your struggles are futile. You should have known better than to resist the inevitable."

He nodded at his comrades, and they began to close in.

"You are defeated, Ranma Saotome."

To his bewilderment, he saw the battered boy lock his gaze onto something behind him and twitch his bruised lips into a tiny smile. "Not quite," he growled.

Shino blinked, stupefied.

His answer came when a bokken, a blade attached to a chain, and a red Chinese umbrella were hurtled at them, seemingly from out of nowhere, catching Shino and several of his followers off-balance.

And with that, the rest of Nerima's premiere martial artists leaped into battle.

A loud murmur of amazement rippled across Furinkan High, starting from the ones closest to the scene, then diffusing toward the various floors, until the sound reached the roof.

Ukyou skittered even more closely to the edge, straining to see.

"What is it?" Shampoo queried fearfully. "What they excited about?"

Akane felt a little shiver of alarm as she saw Ukyou's eyes widen. "Ukyou? What's going on? Is Ranma okay?"

Ukyou expelled a long, deep breath. "You guys..."

They were now all teetering precariously on the brink of the roof. Down below, they could see Ranma, as well as the multitude that remained unmoving in front of him. Upon closer inspection, the three of them realized that several members of the clan were lying flat on their backs.

"They knocked down," whispered Shampoo. "Did Ranma—?" She was silenced as a long-haired, bespectacled form appeared next to Ranma in a flurry of cloth and blades. No...it couldn't be...

"Mousse?" she shrieked.

Ukyou followed her gaze, and her eyes locked immediately onto the yellow-shirted, bandannaed boy who had leaped from a nearby rooftop, landing in the midst of the fray. "Ryouga?"

Akane's jaw dropped as she recognized the third figure, a young man with dark curly hair and a bokken in his hand rushed into the makeshift battlefield. "Wait a minute! Th-that's Kunou!"

"My dear brother? Then he _is_ here! OhohohohohohoHO!"

Shampoo, Akane, and Ukyou cringed at that all-too-familiar laugh.

"What the heck took you so long?" grumbled Ranma, his tone deceptively light and conversational. "Did you guys let Ryouga lead the way here or somethin'?"

Ryouga was too engrossed in keeping watch over the approaching clan to take any real offense at the gibe. "Stuff it, Ranma," he said mildly. "You might as well be grateful that I decided to come after all and save your sorry butt."

Ranma snorted, falling back into battle stance. "Like I needed to be saved—" He stopped as a jolt of pain shot up his back and shoulder.

"The same applies to me, Saotome," warned Mousse. "I only came at Shampoo's request—_not_ because your welfare matters to me!"

"And I," proclaimed Kunou, readying his bokken, "come not for thine vile hide, but because my pig-tailed goddess hath clamored for me to do so." He brandished his weapon for emphasis. "For I, yes _I_, Tatewaki Kunou, am the only one she doth trust! Ah, yes, my pig-tailed goddess...she loves me well..."

Ranma suppressed a snigger. Maybe his girl form _did _have a few benefits. Then he grimaced a little as a jolt of pain seared through his left side—courtesy of the clan, no doubt.

"Looking a little winded there, Ranma," observed Ryouga, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Why don't you rest and let us handle this?"

The pigtailed boy shot him a chaffed look. Damn. Ryouga knew. So he grunted, forcing himself to switch off his pain sensors as he tested his right side. "Over my dead body, man."

Ryouga returned Ranma's look with a condescending one of his own. "Well, Ranma, if that's how you feel—" He nodded at their foes. "—then maybe you're gonna get your wish."

Ranma, Mousse, and Kunou glanced to the spot where Ryouga was pointing.

To their collective horror, the Shoryuu clan seemed to be preparing for some sort of retaliation. They were moving purposefully, methodically, realigning their ranks to accommodate the addition of three new adversaries. The one in the gold and red armor hovered at the corner, silently coordinating his comrades' placements, his tanned features set in grim resolve.

Ranma, Ryouga, Mousse, and Kunou automatically eased into battle stances, their backs to each other, as the clan swarmed malevolently around them.

"Looks like they still want more, eh?" Ranma murmured.

"They do, do they?" The Chinese youth drew out a new length of chain—one with a spiked mace dangling from the end—from the arsenal he concealed somewhere within his sleeves. "I admit I wouldn't have it any other way. After all, I feel the need to thrash them soundly for what they did to Shampoo and me last time!"

The air was practically crackling with tension as the two opposing groups advanced toward each other.

"Well, guys," Ryouga called out, twirling the assault umbrella in his hands, "what do you say we give them the traditional Nerima welcome?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Ranma replied behind him. "You guys used the soap, right?"

"Affirmative," confirmed Mousse, snapping his chain ramrod-straight.

"Then let us proceed with the smiting!" declared Kunou, bokken held aloft.

They all grinned, their rivalry instincts temporarily muted in the presence of a common foe.

And the fight was on.

"What _you_ doing here?" demanded Shampoo, less than pleased.

Kodachi fluttered her lashes. "Why, because of my Ranma-darling, of course! I heard everything, and I couldn't bear to be apart from him when he was being hurt in battle!" She placed a well-manicured hand across her forehead and shut her eyes. "I simply must go down there and help him!"

"Don't even bother," snapped Akane. "That jerk doesn't even want us inthis fight. As far as he's concerned, Ryouga and the others're doing a good enough job of helping him!"

Kodachi sniffed haughtily. "What kind of a future wife is one who neglects her duties to the man she loves?"

"What are you—_no_!" Akane quelled the urge to punt her to the sky. "What I'm saying is that he doesn't _need _to be helped—he's got all the help he needs!"

"For now," mumbled Ukyou, still eyeing the fracas down below.

"Atatatatatatatatatatatatata—!"

The sight of Tatewaki Kunou racing past hordes of his foes, calling out his battle cry, wildly thrashing his bokken—and failing to score even a single hit—was enough to make Ranma snarl in exasperation.

The pigtailed youth retreated to the back ranks for a second, trying to stifle the pain in his ribs. He hated to leave a battle for any reason, even when he was injured, but the pain was making it hard for him to execute any moves. He was sure that it would subside soon, but in the meantime he had an obligation to the others. With that in mind, he conducted a quick check on his teammates' conditions.

Amazingly, Kunou was still conscious. He continued to whack away at his foes in a berserker frenzy, but they were too fast for him, managing to dance out of his reach even before he raised his bokken. It was maddening, at least for Ranma, to know that the only reason they hadn't put the upperclassman in Slumberland yet was because they were actually _playing_ with him, not even bothering to block his swings but instead taking pleasure in evading them. Then again, this could be quite beneficial: as long as Kunou entertained a good portion of the Shoryuu combatants, there would be less irritances for the rest of his team.

Their assault on Mousse, though, was no game. Fortunately, like Ranma, Mousse had witnessed enough of their manner of fighting when they'd kidnapped him, and he was now utilizing that knowledge to read and dodge his attackers' blows. His arsenal of hidden armaments, ranging from ax blades to toilets, were not enough to snag more than a few members, but they were enough to keep the clan on their toes.

Ryouga, on the other hand, was the one who was inflicting the most damage. He was taking them out by hordes, executing his breaking point technique on the rock-hard ground to repeatedly knock them off their feet. Between explosions he would tear off handfuls of bandannas from his head and hurl them at charging enemies, or use his umbrella like a buzzsaw to deter them from getting too close to him and his allies. It was obvious that, unlike Ranma, his techniques were well-suited when it came to the disposal of multiple foes.

Ranma assessed his rival with a critical eye. He'd never really noticed how good Ryouga was, perhaps because he was so easily defeated whenever they got into a scuffle. It was usually a case of the pigtailed youth putting him down with his superior speed before Ryouga's superior endurance made any difference. But now, Ranma was beginning to realize just how formidable an opponent Ryouga could be—even now, as the clan rained blows over and over on his pressure points, the lost boy never showed any sign of faltering.

Ranma gritted his teeth. That was it. Rest was over. He launched himself once more into the heart of the action.

After two minutes of combat, the clan reinstituted their water assault, which again failed to procure the desired results. Ranma was once more up to full speed as he avoided their splashes, while Ryouga used his umbrella to deflect the water away from him, Ranma, and Mousse. Kunou got the worst of it, of course, since the three of them used him like a defensive shield, but although he continued to sputter and curse them, the Jusenkyou trio knew that he wasn't going to turn into anything anyway—except maybe a prune.

The four of them were sopping wet as they assumed their initial position—an outward-facing circle.

"Is it just me," panted Mousse, "or do the rest of you think it's a good time to start applying some strategy here?"

"I...must say...that I concur...wholeheartedly," wheezed Kunou.

"Yeah, Ranma. We're not going to be able to keep this up forever, you know," growled Ryouga, wringing some excess water from his hair.

"Yeah, I'm thinkin', I'm thinkin'! Cut me some slack, willya?"

"That all Ranma's plan."

"_What_?" shrieked Akane incredulously. "He doesn't even know what to do after that?"

Shampoo winced. "Akane shout very much."

The Tendo girl wrung her arms in frustration. "I don't believethis! You mean that all was gotta do up here is hope and pray that the guys somehow find a way to defeat the clan?"

"Ah...yes?"

"Oh, _honestly_! Not if they're gonna get killed first!"

Ukyou studied the four ant-like forms down below her, her brain working with lightning-fast speed. "No," she asserted, drawing out the battle spatula from where it had been strapped to her back. "No, they won't."

Kodachi's narrowed purple eyes flickered toward her, sparkling with feigned indifference. "And what do you plan to do?"

Ukyou smirked.

The Shoryuu continued to prowl around them like ravenous wolves. Their hands belayed the telltale sparkles of water between their fingers.

The gears in Ranma's head were racing frantically. If he was right, one more touch of water on his skin would reduce him into a female. Already he could feel the itch of bubbles on his skin.

Shino materialized suddenly in front of them. There was no longer any mask of cordiality on his visage.

"Game's over, upperworlders." The words dropped from his mouth in cold, concise tones.

"Ranma," Mousse hissed. "Ranma, we need a _plan_..."

Ranma didn't reply.

Shino gestured at his comrades and said one word: "_Now_."

His followers never got the chance to obey.

A bonbori, a gymnastic whip-ribbon, and a round of spatula shurikens ripped down at them seemingly from out of nowhere, catching Shino and company by surprise for the second time in the fight.

Ranma, Ryouga, Kunou, and Mousse glanced up toward Furinkan High's roof, matching horrified expressions flitting across their upturned faces as they caught sight of four very familiar figures lingering on the edge.

And with that, Nerima's premiere female martial artists leaped into battle.

_End of Chapter Five_


	7. Chapter 6: The Secret of Yasakami

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Six: The Secret of Yasakami

" . . . so why do men persist in finding a bridge to close that gap  
between those gods in Heaven and us mortals on Earth?"

—excerpt from Sho shen ji ("The Book of Seeking Immortals")

"What the heck d'ya think you're _doing_?" screamed Ranma.

The eight of them automatically fell back into another defensive circle, their backs to each other, never tearing their eyes off the their assailants. Even now, the clan displayed an alarming recovery rate as they realigned the rows that had been toppled by the unexpected attack.

"Get a clue, Ranma!" retorted Akane, raising her fists. "We came to help!"

"We don't need any help," her fiance shot back, copying her action. "We were doing just fine!"

"Saotome, thou art unworthy to address the fair Akane Tendo in such a manner!" thundered Kunou, abandoning his wary scrutiny of their opponents to gaze disdainfully at Ranma.

"Don't you dare talk to Ranma-darling like that, brother _dear_," hissed Kodachi.

"May we just concentrate on the fight, please?" Mousse bellowed in exasperation. This outburst only earned him two don't-interrupt-us-while-we're-arguing glares as only Ranma Saotome and Akane Tendo were capable of bestowing.

"Are you trying to say that just because we're girls, we can't fight?" Akane's voice took on an ominous turn.

Ranma was starting to look irked—and sheepish. "Geez, Akane...I just think—"

"Oooh! Just spare me that same old speech, Ranma," she snapped.

"Um, Akane..." This time Ryouga spoke up, sounding nervous. "I promised myself I'd burn in hell before I'd say this, but I agree with Ranma. This's too dangerous—"

"Oh, please!" Ukyou interrupted, her face heating with resentment. "Don't tell me you're with Ranchan on this stupid sexist idea. For your information, you guys weren't doing any major butt-kicking, anyway!"

"Well, we were handling them pretty good, weren't we?" countered Ryouga, his voice escalating in volume.

"Not the way _I_ saw it, sugar!" yelled Ukyou.

"That's strictly your opinio—"

At this point, a fed-up Shampoo swiped at Ryouga with her bonbori, flicking some stands of his dark hair.

"You pay attention to battle, stupid!" she groused.

Ryouga only shooed off her weapon with his own and growled, scrubbing vehemently at his scalp.

Ukyou smirked at him, Kunou and Kodachi proceeded to flail their respective war implements threateningly at each other, Mousse looked bewildered, Shampoo looked thoroughly aggravated, and Ranma and Akane continued to bicker.

Unbeknownst to them, Shino was already reassessing them as he and the clan regrouped. There was a gleam of satisfaction in his gold eyes as he noticed that somehow the Œvictims' had engaged themselves in some sort of petty squabble. In fact, the girl with the short bob cut was incensed enough to withdraw a gigantic iron mallet seemingly out of thin air and brandish it at the boy with the pigtail.

He wanted to laugh out loud.

It was ridiculous, really. He didn't even have to figure out a method to distract the Cursed long enough for the clan to take them. Not when they were doing such a good job of it themselves.

Shino nodded wordlessly at his comrades, then concentrated. A tiny pulsing sphere materialized within the confines of his half-clasped hands, growing larger in size and width until it was roughly four inches in diameter.

And it wasn't made of water.

Ranma was the first to become aware of the danger when he felt the back of his neck prickle with something akin to trepidation. Ignoring Akane's tirade, he thinned his eyes into slits and locked them on the object winking at him from between the Shoryuu leader's fingers.

He recognized it immediately.

"Honestly! I never should've decided to hel—aiiieeee!" A tinny shriek escaped Akane's mouth as Ranma suddenly threw his arms around her waist. "Ranma, what do you _think_ you're—"

Her outraged query was cut off as Ranma's momentum knocked the both of them unceremoniously to the ground. She lay there, momentarily stunned.

Behind them, Mousse mimicked Ranma's action and glomped onto Shampoo. She screamed in revulsion all the way down.

In front of them, Ryouga dived, taking a still-yelling Ukyou with him.

Kunou and Kodachi were trying to strangle each other when they lost their balance and toppled down.

Akane was just about to open her mouth and ask Ranma what the hell was going on, when something hot and blinding rushed past the space above her head—right past where she'd been standing a half-second ago before Ranma had bulldozed her into the ground.

BOOM

Ukyou Kuonji groaned as she shifted uncomfortably, wincing as she felt the rough earth dig into her back. Multicolored stars swam before her eyes in the wake of the glare that had filled her vision just a moment before.

She twisted her body, vainly attempting to get up. In the process, she slowly realized that something hard and heavy was sprawled on top of her, effectively cutting off her ability to lift herself up.

"What the—?" she mumbled.

Everything slowly began to come into focus.

"Aaaahhhh! Get..._off _ofme!"

Ryouga winced at the incredible decibels of her voice and immediately rolled off of her, rubbing his temple in irritation. "Did I tell you that you've got a really lousy way of saying thanks?" he growled.

Ukyou scrambled unsteadily to her feet, cheeks flushed. She was on the verge of forming some sort of sarcastic comeback when Mousse, Shampoo, Kunou, Kodachi, Ranma, and Akane appeared at her back.

Kunou's face was lightly streaked with dirt. Kodachi looked nonplussed, her violet eyes glazed over. Shampoo looked more repulsed than astonished. Mousse, curiously, sported fist-sized bruises all over his face and his glasses were askew, but he looked perfectly blissful.

"Ye gods!" gasped Kunou. "What, pray tell, was that?"

They fell back into their initial defensive stances as the Dragon clan swirled around them, carefully keeping their distance.

"Yeah, what _was_ that thing?" Akane exclaimed.

"Ki-blast," Ryouga responded instantly, without hesitation.

"Ki?" Ukyou regarded him in disbelief. "You mean they know how to use spirit energy attacks?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely." Ranma's jaw stood out in hard relief. "Looks like water ain't the only thing these jerks can throw from their hands. One touch of those babies, and we're toast."

Ryouga nodded in agreement, while the others fell silent. Of all those assembled, Ranma and Ryouga were the only ones able to channel the auras they generated in battle into lethal projectiles, and they understood full well how deadly the consequences were in utilizing such an assault. It took an incredible amount of control and mastery to manipulate such a potent energy, and they were aware that only a select few skilled individuals were capable.

Ukyou chewed pensively at her bottom lip. "Okay, so it's obvious that we're kinda outta our league here. Now what?"

"We retreat?" queried Mousse, frowning even as his mouth formed the word. He didn't like running away from an opponent any more than his fellow martial artists did.

"No way!" Ranma blurted out vehemently. "Lissen, I know this's beginning to look impossible to win, but I ain't gonna give up now, and neither should any of you."

They all gaped at him, and around them, the clan began to reestablish offensive positions.

Ranma lowered his voice. "Look, all we need ta do is avoid those blasts and hang on as long as you can."

"And then what?" demanded Mousse, thoroughly frustrated. "What course of action should we undertake once we are unable to fight any longer?"

There was the rustle of red and gold fabric as their attackers began to close in. The air fairly buzzed with hostile anticipation.

"Isn't there anything that can make them vulnerable?" whined Kodachi as she cracked her whip-ribbon.

"There should be something that make them weak," Shampoo murmured, retrieving her trusty bonbori from where they'd been knocked down.

"Yeah," seconded Ukyou, spinning the handle of her mega-spatula. "We need something big and deadly—ya know, kind of like a last resort thing..."

"Last resort," mumbled Ryouga, his gaze still glued to the rapidly approaching clan. "I used a Shishi Houkoudan against them when they first attacked me, but I lost consciousness soon after, so I don't know if..."

At Ryouga's words, the tiniest fragment of an idea stirred within the deepest recesses of Ranma's brain, and slowly an insidious gleam surfaced in the depths of his gray-blue eyes.

As scary as it sounded, Ranma Saotome had a new plan.

"What in _Honolulu_ is goin' on out dere?"

There was no use ignoring the authoritative voice that boomed from the open doorway of Sensei Tanaka's Cultural History class. Roughly forty pairs of eyes reluctantly peeled themselves away from the windows and riveted on the colorful figure standing just outside the classroom door.

Sensei Tanaka found his voice first. "P-p-principal Kunou—s-s-sir!" he stuttered, in the tone of one beholding a god.

The flower-shirted, lei-wearing, shades-sporting principal of Furinkan High shuffled past the flustered instructor and peered out curiously into the schoolyard.

"Sensei Tanaka," began Principal Kunou, very calmly, "de janitor be tellin' me dat dere be a fight happenin' in front of my school an' it's distractin' all de students from deir much-needed education. So I be wonderin', well, if you be knowin' jus' what coulda started dis."

Sensei Tanaka whisked off his glasses and rubbed at the steamed lenses. "Ahhh—well, no, Principal Kunou, sir..."

A raucous cheer rose up suddenly from the crowd around the windows.

Principal Kunou jumped, nearly dropping his shades. "All right, dat just rattles my coconut!" he roared. "I can handle de ugly long hair an' de crazy psychotic teacher, but I will not have dem cheerin' one a' dem crazy battles louder den dey do de school sports teams! I want de campus security wipin' out dat wave in my schoolyard _now_!"

Tanaka mopped his sweaty forehead. "Ahhhh, I remember now, sir...Ranma Saotome was gone missing from the room when this commotion started..."

The principal ceased his hysterical diatribe at once. "Eh? What you say, Sensei? Ranma Saotome?"

"Y-y-yes, sir. The one who destroyed your coconut tree plantation in the baseball field and left you hanging by your Hawaiian underwear from the top of the flagpole..."

"Aaaah, yes..._dat_ Ranma Saotome." The other man's eyes glittered behind the safety of his dark spectacles. As if he could forget those indignities he'd undergone thanks to his school's most notorious trouble magnet. "On de other hand," he corrected himself, baring his teeth in a shark-like grin, "mebbe we should see what be happenin' instead, no...?"

"Principal Kunou! Principal Kunou!" A scarlet-faced security guard skittered into the room. "Those—those people—they've demolished your office, sir!"

"_What_!" The principal was furious. There was no way that bunch of psychopaths could destroy his painstakingly-designed office with its genuine sand dunes and coconut-tree wallpaper and get away with it. "Den what de hell you think you doin' here? Go round up dem campus security—I want dose people stopped now!"

"But both your children, sir—Tatewaki and Kodachi—they are down there as well, sir!"

"Dey are?" Principal Kunou was clearly surprised.

"Yes, sir. I'm calling up the rest of campus security—"

"Uhm...no! Wait! I be changin' me mind—!"

Another cheer erupted from the enthusiastic spectators of Furinkan High as the battle resumed below.

Shampoo was only dimly aware of the shouts of encouragement emitting from the buildings around her. The noise—and everything else—dissipated into the background, melting into the scenery, so that the only thing she could concentrate on was what she was doing.

She was in the midst of battle.

True to her heritage, Shampoo reveled in combat as only a Chinese Amazon could—testing her limits through it, adapting herself to it, and thoroughly losing herself in it. This was her turf.

What made this even better was that her opponents were definitely _not_ pushovers.

As far as Shampoo could recall, she had never encountered enemies such as these. Their fighting style was too broad to identify it as any specific kind, and yet at the same time it was too well-executed and planned for it _not_ to be labeled as any sort of generalized combat. Her inability to distinguish their movements rendered it almost impossible for Shampoo to defend herself against their blows, much less counterattack.

For now, though, constant attacks against their antagonists would be sufficient enough for their strategy to proceed.

Shampoo allowed herself a quick, surreptitious study of her teammates' progress. Ranma, as usual, held himself true to form, using his blazing speed and marvelous dexterity to take out his assailants one by one in record time. Mousse, amazingly, hadn't let his concern for her welfare distract him from the task at hand, and he rained upon his foes all the weapons he could find within his robes. Kodachi was managing even better than her brother, wrapping her ribbon-whip around several enemies at a time and sending them spinning off the battlefield with a flick of her wrist. Ukyou's long-reaching spatula and shurikens were finding their marks on the front ranks of the clan, while Ryouga continued to deal out maximum damage, staving off wave after wave of assailants by reducing the ground under their feet into rubble and using his entire arsenal of weapons—belt, umbrella, and bandannas.

So far, so good. Now if the clan refrained from using water spheres or ki-blasts, then this could just work...

Shampoo let out a strangled gasp as she was suddenly belted in the face with something very familiar.

And very wet.

SPLASH

"Shampoo!" Mousse wailed, rushing over toward her.

She shook her dripping hair, staring down at her drenched clothes with disbelief.

Apparently the clan had tired of playing games.

"Sham—"

SPLASH

Mousse stood paralyzed, just a few feet away from a shell-shocked Shampoo. Rivulets of water ran down the curved sides of his glasses, down his nose and cheeks, down his long hair, down his robes. He was staring at his left arm in consternation when his teammates scurried over.

"Mousse—you okay, man?" Ranma demanded.

The Chinese boy mutely lifted his hands for them to inspect. There, just at the back of his wrist, was a gathering of iridescent soap bubbles.

Which meant that the waterproof soap was about ready to wash off.

SPLASH

They barely had time to leap out of the way of the next water sphere that was hurled their way. Kodachi squealed as some moisture splattered onto her bare back, just missing her little red leotard.

The eight of them realigned, facing the grim expressions of the Dragon clan with renewed vigor.

"These people don't give up easy, do they?" Ukyou remarked, careful to lower her voice so that their opponents could not hear over the racket above their heads.

"Apparently not," Mousse said, copying her precautions.

"Well, _that's_ strange, considering the way they disappeared when they could've killed us all last night," stated Ryouga.

"Yeah," agreed Ranma, "but right now I ain't gonna dwell on that."

"Well, I think they're tiring," Akane pointed out. "I mean, they're lobbing us with water and ki-blasts. It's obvious that they're trying to knock us off as quickly as they can."

"Truer words hath never been spoken," Kunou agreed. "I say that we proceed with our strategy forthwith!"

Ranma expelled a deep breath. "I never thought I'd say this," he murmured, "but I think Kunou's right."

"Now is good time to carry out plan," Shampoo seconded instantly.

"I agree," Mousse added.

"We do it _now_, Ranma, or we're dead," Ryouga hissed.

"All right." Ranma assumed a defensive stance. "Go for it."

"What's going on now? What's going on?" Hiroshi babbled, shoving Daisuke aside to take a better look at the fight.

"Hiroshi my friend, will you kindly shut up long enough for me to find out exactly that?" Daisuke retorted, bopping the other boy smartly on the back of his neck.

Sayuri ignored their antics and peeked down. Her brows knitted together in worry. "You guys, I think they're getting exhausted."

"Who wouldn't be, if they've been attacking nonstop for the past twenty or so minutes?" countered Yuka.

"Hey, look." Hiroshi strained forward, his motif somber. "Ranma and the others're pulling back."

"What d'you think they're doing?" questioned a baffled Sayuri.

"I dunno." Daisuke licked his lips. "But I think that they've got themselves a strategy."

A tense, anticipatory hum began to ripple through the spectators of Furinkan High.

"ATATATATATATATATATATATATATA—!"

Tatewaki Kunou cut a wide swath amidst the multitude, swinging his bokken in mad arcs.

His action caught the clan off-guard for a moment—long enough for Mousse to follow up his attack with an explosion of chains and blades that jetted from his hands like torpedoes. Behind him, Shampoo let fly with both bonbori, while Ukyou simultaneously released a healthy storm of spatula shurikens upon their foes.

Their combined assault was enough to gently nudge the clan toward the edge of the main Furinkan High building.

As if on cue, Akane placed herself in between the aggressors and her teammates, instigating an assault of her own as she warded off attacker after attacker with her wooden mallet. Kodachi assisted her from behind, using her ribbon to disable those members at the front of the ranks. Kunou joined Akane in hindering the clan through close-range combat, while Kodachi, Mousse, Shampoo, and Ukyou stood back at a distance and continued to rain an arsenal of assorted weapons upon their enemy—all the while desperately trying to avoid the water and ki that the Shoryuu fired at them with alarming frequency.

They were also desperately trying to distract the clan from Ranma and Ryouga while they proceeded to carry out their part of the plan.

From his place at the back of his comrades, Shino appraised the opponents' performance with growing suspicion. It was obvious that these stubborn upperworlders had a plan.

He narrowed his ochroid eyes and concentrated on channeling his aura into an extra-large ball of ki, intending to aim it right at the very back of the Nerima team—where he could just distinguish two figures frozen in their battle stances, apparently engrossed in something Shino could not determine.

But whatever it was, he knew it wasn't good.

Ceding to a brief mental command from their leader, the clan ceased their attacks without warning and scattered, much to the bafflement of the Nerima team.

Without giving the Jusenkyou-cursed and their allies any time to act on their confusion, Shino closed his eyes and let loose an enormous burst of burning red ki.

And for a second, the light turned everything blood red.

High above the battlefield, countless pairs of arms lifted up to shield countless pairs of eyes from the crimson glare.

_Dammit, dammit, _dammit

Ranma repeated the curse over and over like a mantra as he dodged some ki-projectiles. Beside him, Ryouga had a similar look of indignant rage plastered over his own features as he used his umbrella to deflect yet another water sphere. In front of them, Ukyou, Shampoo, Kunou, Mousse, Kodachi, and Akane frantically tried to resume their original mission without much success. The clan was now widely distributed, and there was no way Ranma and Ryouga could nail all of them with ki attacks.

The clan had seen through their strategy, and had responded accordingly. They'd figured out that Ranma and Ryouga's intentions to fire extra-large versions of their respective ki-blasts to finally put the clan out of commission, and the leader had used a ki-blast of his own to throw them off.

Ranma's supply of energy was finally dwindling. It wouldn't be long before he was too fatigued to even duck the smallest of ki spears. And, judging from the looks on his teammates' drawn faces, he knew that they were losing their drives as well.

The clan, infuriatingly enough, showed no sign of slowing down.

_We need another plan. _Ranma grimaced as he racked his brain for ideas, while simultaneously avoiding the blows of three clan members. _A better plan...we need..._

"BWEEEEEEEEEE!"

Before Ranma's stupefied eyes, a colossal white pig bore down on the Dragon clan like some bovine avatar from the skies above, and slammed the multitude into the cement wall of the main building of Furinkan High.

"Aaaaah! Pig! _Piii_—!"

Sensei Tanaka's cries of alarm were drowned out as the classroom floor rocked from the force of the collision. Powder and plaster showered from the ceilings. Aftershocks rippled through the structure, eliciting screams of fright from the pupils populating the various classrooms.

Strangely enough, not one student decided to abandon his vigil by the windows.

Akane was gawking at the enormous rump of a huge white pig, watching with aghast fascination as the huge curly-cue tail twitched back and forth, then stopped. It had passed out, its front end buried deep into the wall of Furinkan High main building.

Half the clan were staggering to their feet, dazed. The other half stared at the pig.

And they were all congregated into _one big tightly-clustered group._

"Now," she rasped. "Ranma—do it _now_!"

In one graceful movement, a multitude of hostile eyes were upon her. She felt a flare of panic, which was squashed the moment Ranma's voice floated out from behind her, soft and soothing.

"You got it, Akane."

She felt it rather than saw it, and it was with immense relief that she threw herself down to the ground. A heartbeat later Ranma swung his arms forward, hands half clasped, setting free the lethal yellow sphere that danced between his palms.

"MOUKOU TAKABISHA!"

There was no time to duck.

And high above the battlefield, countless pairs of arms lifted up to shield countless pairs of eyes from the golden glare.

When the explosion occurred a moment later, the students let loose an extra-loud whoop.

Shampoo blinked.

Was it her imagination, or did those clan members caught in the onslaught of Ranma's Mouko Takabisha simply vanish into thin air instead of being blown away by the blast?

She _must _have been seeing things. From what she had witnessed just a few moments ago, that ki-blast Ranma had fired had been his biggest one yet. There was no way that anyone could have possibly escaped from so powerful an attack.

Unless they simply disappeared before the blast could hit them.

Or, Shampoo realized with growing dismay, unless the blast had missed them altogether.

The Dragon clan was still standing—what was left of it, anyway.

Shampoo raked her gaze over them, unable to believe what she was seeing. Those who hadn't been snared by the ki-blast were on the opposite sides of the trench the Mouko Takabisha had left in its wake, and were edging toward her and the others.

The Chinese Amazon girl backed away, looking around for someone to acknowledge what she'd just seen, but there was no one around her. Instead, her teammates were all gathered around Ranma, oblivious to the fact that they were still being targeted.

"Ohhh, Ranma-darling, are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Geez, lay off, willya? I ain't dyin' or nothin'. Hey, did it work? Those Dragon jerks gone?"

"Shampoo think Ranma should see for himself."

At her statement, six pairs of eyes looked up at her in surprise, and she silently pointed toward the eighteen or so remaining members of the clan.

"Damn," Ranma mumbled, more exhausted than furious.

"What—what sorcery is this?" sputtered Kunou.

"I was right—these guys don't give up easy," murmured Ukyou.

"Listen, I dunno 'bout you guys," Akane began reluctantly, "but I don't know how much more I can take of this."

"But we have to fight somehow!" Shampoo argued. "We no let them take Ranma!"

"Or you," Mousse volunteered wearily. "Or me."

"But we still have to fight!" insisted Shampoo.

They were now standing in their battle stances, their weapons drawn once more, trying to sublimate the tiredness in their muscles. Around them the remaining clan members staggered nearer, obviously still feeling the aftereffects of the previous attack, and the Nerima group gathered together tightly, shielding the ailing pigtailed youth from their view.

Behind them, unseen by their assailants, Akane reached out and touched Ranma's shoulder encouragingly. "Ranma, is there any way you can do another ki-blast?"

Ranma groaned. "What, right after that doozy of a Mouko Takabisha I just did? Uh-uh. Sorry. Don't think I'll be doin' a ki-blast for a while..."

"_I _can."

Ranma whipped around and found himself gazing at the little energy orb that hung suspended between Ryouga's fingers. Before his eyes, he saw the energy ball expand to roughly seven inches in diameter—larger than any other beginning ki formation he'd ever seen Ryouga manifest.

Ryouga opened his eyes and pinned his teammates with a dark, intense stare. "Get out of the way," he said.

His voice was magnetic.

All seven of them dived for the ground, and the Dragon troop, their reflexes dulled by the earlier ki-blast, found themselves confronted by the sudden glare of ethereal blue light.

"SHISHI _HOUKOUDAN_!"

An azure horizontal pillar of raw, unchecked power beamed forth from Ryouga's hands.

And high above the battlefield, countless pairs of arms lifted up to shield countless pairs of eyes from the cobalt glare.

Principal Kunou and Sensei Tanaka were unable to suppress their shudders when the explosion shook the building a moment later. True to form, this wasn't enough to deter the students of Furinkan High from letting loose another effervescent cheer.

"Wow," Ukyou remarked softly.

The schoolyard that had served as their battlefield was destroyed—utterly demolished, almost beyond recognition. The once-level earth that rested beneath their feet had been reduced to a vast debris-strewn terrain. Numerous craters of various shapes and sizes marred the ground like oversized pockmarks, and lazy wisps of smoke curled from several tiny fires lacing the charred grass. There were three distinct trenches on the ground, courtesy of the three massive ki-blasts that had been released. Littered throughout were patches of mud from hundreds of water spheres, the remains of dozens of explosions, and evidence of miscellaneous war objects: blades, chains, bandannas, plastic ducks, and porcelain toilets.

And standing amidst the destruction were the eight of them—Ranma, Akane, Ryouga, Shampoo, Mousse, Ukyou, Kunou, and Kodachi. Even Katsunishiki was wobbling to his feet.

While not one member of the Dragon clan was in sight.

_They're gone. They're all gone, _Ukyou thought, nearly sick with relief. Then her breath caught as she heard a rustle. Something was shifting inside one of the trenches. _Okay, so I thought too soon._

"Ranma!" Akane exclaimed as she watched him dash recklessly toward the trench and reach into the hollow.

The seven of them hurried over to join him, and their eyes goggled as he hauled a worn, plated-armor figure out of the ditch. The once-proud, shimmering iron plates were now nicked and soiled by battle, and the beautiful gauzy fabric of his clothes was now dulled with dirt. Ranma ripped off the helmet and yanked off the face mask, and for the first time they could all see the entire face of one of their aggressors.

It was a young man, not much older than themselves, with lightly bronzed skin, chiseled features, dark hair tied into a tight thin ponytail, and hypnotic golden-vermillion eyes. The fatigue in his face was evident, but he stared up at them with angry defiance in spite of his clan's defeat.

Ranma seized him by his shirtfront. "All right, pal, time to spill the beans. What's this all about, huh?"

The young man sneered at him. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

"Don't play games with me, you bastard. If you didn't notice what just happened, we kicked your buddies' butts so bad their grandchildren're gonna have our shoeprints for birthmarks!"

"You think you _defeated_ us?" The youth raised a skeptical eyebrow. "No. Far from it. Did you think that we gave this fight here was our best effort? No. This was a test—a test to see the limits of your abilities and determine your weaknesses. We have only just begun, upperworlder..."

"You mean...this...not real battle?" demanded Shampoo furiously.

"And what do you mean, Œyou've only just begun'?" Akane chimed in.

The stranger cocked his head to one side. "I'm just saying that it is useless to try and prevent the inevitable. Because no matter how hard you fight or how long it takes us, the Dragon clan will catch up to you five. You can be sure of that."

Ranma, Ryouga, Mousse, and Shampoo exchanged distressed looks. Then as if struck by an idea, Ranma gave the other boy a savage shake. "Wait a minute—your leader said something about a cave—Yasakami—he said something about it being a cure..."

"Do you really want to know, upperworlder?"

Ranma shook him even harder, his fury fueled by the horrific notion that he would be hounded all through his life unless he found a cure. "Just tell me, dammit!"

The boy's eyes flashed copper fire. "I have a better idea," he drawled. "Why don't I just _show _you...?"

And with that, he fired a conflux of images straight into Ranma Saotome's brain.

They danced through his mind for no more than a second at a time. Every one clear and vibrant in detail. Devastating in their intensity.

There were images of a road never traveled.

Images of a concealed cavern opening.

Images of an exquisite underground waterfall, surrounded by pools of pure, clear water...

Ranma released his hold on the prisoner and clutched at his head, deaf to everything but the pounding in his brain, willing the images to dissipate even as they seared themselves into his memory.

Meanwhile, across from him, the young man in the Shoryuu armor had taken only a few steps before he collapsed, his body fading into nothingness before he could hit the ground.

"Ranma? Ranma-honey?"

"Ooooh, Ranma-darling?"

"Airen!"

"Ranma, you jerk, _snap outta it_!"

Ranma sat up abruptly, wincing as he felt an odd sense of deja vu overtake him.

"He awake!" squealed Shampoo.

Ranma looked up and saw seven faces staring back down at him, displaying emotions that ranged from relief to ardor to disgust to disdain.

"Where'd the guy go?" was Ranma's first query.

"He disappeared after your little seizure act," said Ryouga. He was the one with the disdain upon his countenance.

"Quite an unconvincing performance, I must add," sniffed Kunou. He was the one with the disgust on his face.

Ranma got up quickly, nearly bowling Akane over in the process. "Oh, man...my head..."

"I think you oughta rest for a minute, Ranchan," Ukyou observed. "You don't look too well."

"N-no," Ranma managed, shaking his head. "I can't rest now. If I do, I'll just forget where it is..."

"Huh?" Akane demanded. "Where _what_ is?"

Shaking off his initial sense of lightheadedness, Ranma leaped onto the branch of one of the few trees that had not been decimated by the battle and scaned the hills some distance to the west of Furinkan High.

"The cave," he said rather absently, not even bothering to glance down at them as he spoke. "The Cave of Yasakami..."

He bounced onto a nearby rooftop and disappeared before Akane could form some sort of retort. She stared after him, her expression warring between helplessness and indignation. "Why...why that—"

Without warning, Ryouga raced past her and performed a similar jump onto the rooftop next to the tree, landing on the shingles with all the aplomb of a cat. "Don't worry, Akane," he called down to her reassuringly. "I'll keep watch over Ranma for you—no matter where he's going!"

And with those hasty yet ardent parting words, he took off after Ranma.

"Hey, hold ona minute! What makes you think you can track him down if you keep on getting lost?" Ukyou shouted after him.

Unfortunately, Ryouga was already gone and out of earshot.

She fumed. "Stupid jack—"

The next thing she knew she was being shoved aside as Shampoo all but trampled over her in her hurry to accompany her intended. "Ranma! Shampoo follow you always even to ends of earth!"

"W-wait—!" Akane exclaimed, now definitely annoyed as the Chinese Amazon girl mimicked Ranma and Ryouga's ascent to the roof and vanished. Of course, it wasn't long before Mousse bounded up the edifice after his beloved, his long sleeves fluttering as he did so.

"Sh-sh-shampoo! Wait for me, Shampoooooo!"

Then he was gone as well.

And standing in the midst of the smoking wasteland were the four who had remained behind—Akane, Ukyou, Kunou, and Kodachi.

The significance of the last forty-eight hours slowly dawned on them, while in the background Principal Kunou and the rest of campus security streaked by, shrieking hysterically, a giant white sumo pig at their heels.

_End of Chapter Six_


	8. Chapter 7: The Cure?

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Seven: The Cure?

"When one is blinded by that which he seeks, it is hard for him to see the lines in between."

—Unknown

Akane sat rigidly at her desk, hands clasped tightly in front of her, her dark eyes fixed on some indeterminate spot just beyond Sensei Tanaka.

"Perhaps you did not hear my question, Miss Tendo."

Oh, she did. She'd heard it loud and clear.

"In that case, I suggest that you pay attention this time."

Oh, she'd been paying attention, all right. She just couldn't understand how being put under interrogation was going to do any good now that the real perpetrators were gone.

Along with Ranma. And Ryouga. And Shampoo and Mousse.

Gone. All gone.

This time out of their own accord.

"Miss Tendo, I will ask you one more time—where is Ranma Saotome?"

Her head jerked up, startled. "Uhm, excuse me?"

Sensei Tanaka heaved a tired, patient sigh. "I said, do you know where Ranma Saotome is?"

Akane's gaze dritfed down to her desktop, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb against its edge. "I don't know," she replied softly.

"You...don't know." It was more of a question than a statement.

She felt a flicker of annoyance ignite somewhere within her. "No, Sensei Tanaka—I do not know where he is."

_And I don't care,_ she added silently. _That baka can fall off the_ _ends of the earth looking for that stupid cave for all I care._

"Well, Miss Tendo, I am afraid that will simply not be enough. If you haven't noticed, he has quite a lot of explaining to do. There is an insanely huge radioactive-spawned pig sitting in front of Principal Kunou's office refusing to vacate the premises..."

"He belongs to Akari Unryuu. You know, the new girl? I'm sure she'll pick him up soon."

"...the schoolyard looks like a war zone..."

"It's always been that way, Sensei Tanaka."

"...and we've got four people who are unaccounted for."

Akane plunked her chin on the palm of her hand, her forehead crinkling.

Sensei Tanaka continued. "I know that there were eight people involved in that brawl—including you, strangely enough—and of those eight, only you, Miss Kuonji, and the two young Kunous remain. What I want to know, Miss Tendo, is where the other four are."

Akane scowled. Damned if _she_ knew. It was just like Ranma to succumb to his masculine pride and go off on his own trying to discover a solution to his troubles by himself. He never even once considered enlisting the help and support of those who cared about him enough to—

At that last part, she scratched her head. Where had _that_ come from, anyway?

"Miss Tendo, I realize that this is not the first time this particular institution has under siege by bouts of lunacy. But this...no, I have never seen anything quite like this. Someone has to answer for this, Miss Tendo, and Ranma Saotome's the easiest target."

She glanced down at her hands, alternately folding and unfolding them. "I know...Ranma was the one the clan challenged. And he _was_ the only reason they decided to come here to Furinkan High."

Sensei Tanaka removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "Did you say Œclan'?"

"Yes, sensei. At least, that's what they called themselves."

He panicked inwardly. Great. Another bunch of juvenile crazies taking up residence in this already off-kilter little town. Perfect. He composed himself. "Well, anyway, regarding Mister Saotome's whereabouts—"

The classroom door's hinges finally snapped and the door fell in, revealing quite a number of Akane and Ranma's schoolmates piled outside in various eavesdropping stances.

"Ah...ah...why, it's Sensei Tanaka!"

"Fancy meeting _you _here, sensei!"

"We were just...ah...testing the door—yeah, that's it!"

"Yeah...an experiment...we were conducting an experiment, that's all!"

Akane closed her eyes, deep in speculation, while Sensei Tanaka proceeded to chase off the eavesdroppers. She was still reeling from the events that had occurred in the last two days—from the Jusenkyoites' abductions to their night rescue to Ranma's mixed signals toward her to the furious battle that left her joints aching. And even after all that, Ranma had still found the strength to embark on a journey to find a cure for his gender ailment.

He'd mentioned to her about his intention to find a cave—a cave that supposedly held the answer to all his problems—from his Jusenkyo dilemma to the Dragon clan's intention to hunt him down unless he was cured. Predictably, Shampoo, Mousse, and Ryouga had opted to accompany him. Well, she amended, maybe Ryouga had gone along because he'd promised her he'd watch over Ranma—but Shampoo and Mousse _had_ willingly followed.

Into what?

Akane tucked some stray stands of her bobbed hair behind her ear. _Oh, Ranma,_ she thought sadly. _I hope that you _do _find your cure—I just_ _wish that you'd have trusted me enough to come along with you..._

And if there _wasn't_ a cure, she hoped that Ranma wouldn't be too disappointed.

Because, whether he knew it or not, she liked him the way he was.

Ranma grimaced.

His ribs were acting up again where a member of the clan had pummeled him. In fact, his entire torso was practically screaming with those little hurts and pains that had been inflicted in that battle. Even worse, the nausea that had overwhelmed him after that brain-frying rapport he'd undergone with that last Shoryuu lackey was beginning to reassert itself in a very unwelcome way.

"You okay, Ranma?"

Ranma tried to stifle his sense of vertigo as he shook his head. This wasn't the time to coddle himself. Not when his cure was at stake. "Yeah, just gimme a second."

Shampoo peered up at him as she took his arm. Her maroon-hued eyes sparkled with worry. "You sure, Ranma?"

Mousse watched them silently, not even bothering to hide the look of jealousy on his face. Shampoo had never looked at him that way when _he_ was hurt—which happened to be about eighty percent of the time he was in her presence. Come to think of it, most of his injuries had been inflicted_ by_ her—both physically and mentally. In the past he'd simply overlooked Shampoo's indifferent and sometimes cruel behavior toward him, instead placing the blame on Ranma.

But months after months of that same painful cycle of rejection, he was starting to notice that the problem lay with Shampoo rather than Ranma.

Mousse shut that part of his brain off, appalled with himself. What had he been thinking? Of _course _it was all Ranma's fault. It always was.

Wasn't it?

Mousse hung his head. Most people would have immediately pronounced him imbecilic just because he had terrible eyesight and kept on misinterpreting various objects. Maybe Shampoo would not know—maybe she would _never_ know—but he was so much more than that.

The problem was, he had no idea how to show her.

"Cut the crap, Ranma." Ryouga strode forward, jolting Mousse out of his somber cogitation. "What hell have you gotten us into _this_ time?"

Mousse looked around, conducting a careful study of his surroundings. Ranma's irregular, zigzagging trail had plunked them from the heart of Nerima into the middle of a lush green forest, although Mousse was not certain how it had been accomplished. He and the two other Jusenkyoites had been too absorbed in trying to keep Ranma in sight, though they'd also had to retrieve Ryouga when his sense of misdirection kicked into gear.

Nevertheless, all Mousse could be sure of was that they were somewhere in one of the mountains that overlooked the urban district. The journey there had taken a good amount of time, since twilight was beginning to descend, and the jaunt by rooftop had taken them onto higher grounds without them being aware of it.

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Ranma," Ryouga was saying.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure you're familiar with _that_," Ranma murmured.

"Shut up, Ranma. This isn't the time for your lame jokes."

"Whatever."

"Are you trying to be a wiseguy?"

Mousse suppressed a wince of annoyance. He should have known that Ranma and Ryouga would fall prey to their customary bickering the second they stopped for a break. Though he'd learned how to tune out their arguments pretty much for as long as he'd known them, at times they still got to him. His tolerance for them both was low enough, but the only reason he'd endured them so far—besides the fact that he wanted to watch over Shampoo—was because there was a cure at stake here: a real, honest-to-goodness cure for the Jusenkyou affliction inside the Cave of Yasakami.

_Yasakami,_ Mousse thought. He was certain that he'd heard that word before—a long time ago, back in his village at Joketsuzoku. A strange word, full of connotations he could not grasp at this moment...

He glanced up to see Shampoo, who appeared to be acting as a moderator between Ranma and Ryouga. The two of them were now engaged in a spirited round of name-calling.

"Bacon Breath!"

"Pigtailed Pervert!"

Mousse rolled his eyes behind his thick spectacles.

"Pig-Boy!"

"Half-Girl!"

Their exchange continued even as the four of them resumed their trek to the Cave of Yasakami, with Ranma leading the way.

"Hey, Akane."

Akane spun around in one of Furinkan High's hallways, hearing the patter of footfalls behind her. "Ukyou?" she asked in mild surprise.

"The one and only, sugar." Ukyou sauntered over, looking vaguely anxious. "So how'd the third degree go?"

Akane shrugged. "Hard to say. Sensei Tanaka wouldn't believe me when I told him I didn't know where Ranma and the others were."

"Yeah, I know." Ukyou nodded vigorously. "Miss Kaneda couldn't see the truth even if it came and bit her on the nose."

"They took you in for questioning, too?"

"Yeah. They called in everyone who was involved in the fight. And trust me, sweetie, they got a line of eyewitnesses longer than the Great Wall of China."

"What?" Akane sounded astonished.

Ukyou tilted her head to the side. "Seems that we had an audience when we were down there fighting. Those people above us weren't cheering for the Olympics, Akane."

Akane stifled a groan and dragged a hand across her forehead. "Oh, no. You mean that the _entire school _was watching us?"

"I guess they thought we were more interesting than any History or Algebra lecture."

"Great. Just great." Akane stopped walking for a moment and leaned back on the wall of the corridor, setting her school bag on the polished linoleum floor. She was still raw from the battering the clan had imparted upon her.

"Where're Kunou and Kodachi?" Akane queried nonchalantly, determined not to show Ukyou how sore she was.

Ukyou blew a raspberry, her bangs fanning out across her brow. "Well...let's just say Principal Kunou sent them to Miss Hinako to straighten them out."

"Ouch." Akane winced. Miss Hinako was notorious for her extremely nasty habit of temporarily sucking up other people's auras. "Are they all right?"

"Apparently. Kunou was saying that no consequence was too great for granting his pig-tailed goddess's request, or something like that. He was really passionate 'bout it, too. I mean, I heard his voice even when I was stuck in Miss Kaneda's room."

"I shoulda known Ranma had tricked Kunou into joining this battle by using his girl-form," mused Akane, undecided on whether she should be amused or irked by deviousness that lurked inside the brain of Kunou's Œpigtailed goddess'. "What about Kodachi?"

"She's okay." The okonomiyaki chef wrinkled her nose delicately. "Obviously she's got no regrets about saving Ranchan's life."

"I see." Akane frowned.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Ukyou volunteered. "Principal Kunou called up your house."

"_What_?" the other girl screeched for the second time in the conversation.

"They wanted to get in touch with Ranma's dad, just in case Ranma was there with him."

"_Was _he?" Akane demanded urgently.

Ukyou didn't notice the oddness in the other girl's tone. "No. He had no idea where Ranchan was. Akari was over there, too, and she said that she didn't know where Ryouga was, either. Shampoo and Mousse're still gone, too. And according to your dad, so's Shampoo's great-grandmother Cologne."

"You mean she never came back ever since she left last night?"

The other girl shook her head, her mahogany hair swishing like a bronze halo in the weak rays of the setting sun. "Nope. Your dad said that maybe she was still looking into the Dragon Dynasty or something. Mr. Saotome's fine, though. He says no one tried to attack him today. Anyway, your dad says that we should get over to the dojo as fast as we can."

Akane swallowed hard. Last night, when they'd rescued Ranma and the others, it had almost been too late—for Ranma, anyway. What if they _were_ too late the next time that happened?

Ukyou patted her arm sympathetically. "Don't worry, Akane," she told the other girl sincerely. "I'm sure Ranchan'll come back."

Brushing furtively at the corner of her eyes, Akane managed a tiny smile. She and Ukyou had never really been the closest of friends—perhaps because of the fiancée quandary—but of all the rivals for Ranma's heart, Akane was convinced that Ukyou Kuonji was the least deranged and the most rational one among them.

"After all," continued Ukyou, grinning brightly, "He's gotta come back for _me_, right?"

Akane facefaulted. Then again...

"Well," Ranma announced triumphantly, "here we are."

Ryouga, Mousse, and Shampoo looked up.

Looming up in front of them, huge and dark and nearly obscured by swarms of leaves and profuse foliage, was the entrance of a cave. The opening so resembled the side of the mountain itself that it was nearly impossible to tell that it was even _there_ at all. The cave entrance and the shrubbery surrounding it appeared wild and untouched, like a place unbreached by humans for a very, very long time.

"You sure about this, Ranma?" inquired Shampoo. There was the smallest flicker of trepidation upon her features.

"Yeah." Ranma stretched his arms. His gray-blue eyes were sparkling with excitement. "This is the one, all right. Exactly the way the other guy pictured it."

Ryouga snorted and rubbed the back of his neck. "This could be a mistake, you know."

Ranma whirled on him, displeased at his lack of enthusiasm. "Jeez, what's the matter with you? This could be your only chance of gettin' rid of your curse!"

"_Is_ it?" Mousse wondered. "How can you be certain of that? The only reason you know about this cave is because some random Dragon guy decided to show you how to get here in the first place! Doesn't that warrant a little suspicion?"

"He's right, Ranma," confirmed Ryouga. "Are you really desperate enough to believe something told to you by a guy who's been trying to kill you? What if this's a trap?"

Ranma studied the both of them solemnly, then swiveled his gaze back toward the cave. "We gotta try," he said, carefully avoiding their stares. "I mean, this's the closest I've ever gotten to findin' a cure. This could be our last shot at removing this damn curse from us, and I ain't gonna let it slip away. Even if it _is_ a trap."

And with that, he headed straight into the yawning mouth of the huge cave.

"Ranma, wait!"

Mousse's jaw slackened as Shampoo ran over to Ranma, entwining his arm in her own as she glanced up adoringly into his face.

"Shampoo no leave Ranma," she declared. "Shampoo no care if it _is_ trap. In fact, Shampoo think Ranma very brave."

"Uhm, gee, thanks," was all Ranma could manage.

Ryouga rolled his eyes and spared a brief glimpse at Mousse, who appeared to be shaking in barely controlled rage. _I react the same way_ _when Akane gets close to Ranma,_ he thought, almost absently. Then he shuddered. _Damn, where did _that _come from?_

"Well, I'mnot afraid either! I mean, that's just a stupid cave anyway! What's there to be afraid of? Shampoo, wait up! I'm coming with you, Shampoo..._Shampoo_?" Mousse didn't stop bellowing even as he scurried in after them.

Ryouga exhaled in derision. Bakas. Fine, then. If they didn't listen to him then that was their problem, not his.

He leaned back against the side of a small tree and shifted his rucksack on his tired shoulders, closing his eyes. Finally he began to notice the smallest hint of a tune drifting into his ears—whether it came from the wind or the rustle of the leaves he couldn't tell. Gradually he began to hum the notes, and soon his brain supplied the lyrics to the song.

"This little pig went to market;  
This little pig stayed at home;  
And this little pig cried  
Bwee bwee bwee bwee bwee bwee  
All the way home..."

Ryouga's eyes snapped open in horror. Pigs, pigs, pigs.

No more pigs.

He shuffled over to the cave entrance and peered in. "Hey, Ranma? Shampoo? Mousse?"

His only response was a muffled series of whacking noises. It sounded suspiciously like Shampoo's bonbori pounding in someone's skull. It was followed by the Chinese Amazon girl's high-pitched voice.

"Stupid Mousse! Why you hug piece of rock?"

Ryouga sighed. Everything seemed normal—so far. But then again, there was no telling what was waiting for them the deeper they got into that subterranean passage.

Then again, if there really _was _a cure...

The lost boy felt his reticence crumble. He glanced one more time at the green forest behind him, then plunged into the dimness of the cavern.

"For the last time, Upperclassman Kunou," the school psychiatrist probed one more time, "can you tell me what happened out there today?"

Tatewaki Kunou stared down at the diminutive, bespectacled form before him, much like someone studying a canker sore. Then he cleared his throat and swung his badly scuffed bokken, knocking a potted plant off its perch on a nearby file cabinet. "How dare you consider yourself worthy to be in the exalted presence of Tatewaki Kunou! It is surely a miracle that I have chosen to acknowledge thee, though you are no doubt beneath my notice—"

The psychiatrist massaged his balding temples. "Mr. Kunou...sir, all I need to know is what occurred out there in front of the school this morning. Although I know that you have been subject to Miss Hinako's brand of...punishment, I am certain that there a few brain cells still left in your noble head to understand what I'm trying to inquire of you here—Miss Kodachi, what do you think you're doing?"

Kodachi looked up innocently, her lashes aflutter. "Why, sir, whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Stop throwing my table against the wall. That's not going to break it, no matter what you think."

"Oh." She blinked as she felt the gears slowly whir in her head. Then she burst out hysterically, "But—but I simply mustget out of here!"

"And why is that, Miss Kodachi?" queried the weary man.

"I _must_ find my Ranma darling!" she sobbed.

"_Saotome_?" Kunou was instantly alert. "Has that vile sorcerer returned at last to practice his black arts once more upon the fair maidens of the land? Lead me to him, and I shall impart upon him vengeance from the house of Kunou!"

As if to demonstrate his point, he began to thrash his bokken wildly, knocking off more potted plants, piles of documents, pencil holders, paperweights, lamps, and various other supplies.

The psychiatrist gawked in disbelief as the upperclassman shattered file cabinet after file cabinet, leaving him open to being bulldozed by a frantic Kodachi.

"Must get out of here!" she chanted, seizing the leather-upholstered chair that sat behind the school psychiatrist's desk. She hefted it over her head and proceeded to smash it against the office's dented wall. "Must find my Ranma-darling!"

"I shall smite thee, Ranma Saotome!" grated Kunou, stiffly hacking up and down with his bokken like an automaton.

The poor man decided that an early retirement wasn't looking so bad after all.

The cave _was_ beautiful, Ranma noted. There was certainly no denying that.

Instead of the gloomy, pitch-black interior he'd anticipated, the cave was illuminated with a soft, ethereal blue light that seemed to seep out from the very foundation of the cavern. The roof was a good ten feet above their heads, and it didn't appear to contain any sort of crevice that would allow even the smallest shaft of sunlight to trickle in. Scattered everywhere throughout the underground chamber were stalactites and stalagmites of every size and shape—some pointed, some blunt, some made of rock, and others made of combinations of unidentifiable minerals. Less widespread were the occasional patches of moss and spindly trees.

The most unusual—and most unique—aspect of the cave, though, were the numerous chunks of crystal that had lodged themselves into the rocky floor and walls. A few were opalescent in appearance, resembling diamonds, but most of them were tinged with a deep blue-green hue.

The overall effect was breathtaking, and Ranma thought it a shame that he, Ryouga, Shampoo, and Mousse were the only ones to visit this place in a long time.

_Like more than a thousand years..._

Somehow the realization didn't astound Ranma. Somehow, he already knew that this was the first time in more than one thousand years that the Cave of Yasakami had welcomed any living thing, human or animal, into its surreal atmosphere.

The four of them had now reached what seemed to be the end of the cave. A brief examination revealed that there was a thin opening on the left side of the cul-de-sac, and one by one they went through.

They found themselves in an immense chamber, sealed off from the rest of the cavern by granite walls. Imbedded on the walls were chunks of blue crystal, which lent the room an uncanny yet soothing cobalt glow.

At the end of the chamber was a magnificent underground waterfall. It was rather small—a mere eight feet high—and surrounded by shards of crystal, moss, and some green plant growth. The flow of the falling water wasn't even strong enough to generate a fine mist. Instead of crashing past rocks into a pool of churning foam, the blue-green-tinted water descended in a smooth, unobstructed path, like sake being poured from a jar. Scattered around the waterfall were several crystal-infested pools of varying size and depth. The glow that emitted from the crystals reflected on the pool surfaces and danced on the ceiling in restless ripples of light.

Everything was exactly as Ranma had expected.

When Shampoo finally spoke, it was in a reverent whisper. "Ai-yah. You... you think this it, Ranma?"

"I don't think so." Ranma twisted his head about, taking in every detail of the place. "I _know_ so."

Ryouga carried out his own little scrutiny of the chamber, appraising it with wary eyes as he set down his backpack. "So...how exactly do we get cured here? Jump in one of the pools?"

Mousse adjusted his glasses. "That would seem like a start," he agreed, "but I am curious to know as to how we're supposed to tell which pool is which. I do not wish to turn into anything else."

"This ain't Jusenkyo, you guys." Ranma's eyes were locked on the waterfall. "All those pools ain't gonna cure you. It's the waterfall."

"You mean all Shampoo have to do is jump in waterfall, and Shampoo cured?" Shampoo blurted out incredulously.

Ranma nodded.

Ryouga blinked. No. It was too easy. After nearly a year of living in dual bodies, all they had to do was take a dip in this waterfall, and then that was it. No more transforming. No more shame. No more hiding.

It was all too easy.

"I'll go first," he said aloud.

Shampoo and Mousse regarded him questioningly. Ranma swiveled around and studied Ryouga with narrowed eyes.

"Okay," said the pigtailed boy.

Ryouga nodded and turned toward the waterfall at the other side of the room.

"But you gotta do one thing first."

The lost boy stopped and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"You hafta change into your cursed form."

"_What_?" Ryouga yelled in dismay. The sound bounced off the walls of the chamber.

"That's the deal, Ryouga. Like I said, this ain't Jusenkyo. We gotta play by different rules."

"Wait a minute! Why do I have to change into my cursed form?"

"What big deal?" Shampoo queried. "There nothing to be ashamed of. Ryouga make very tasty piglet."

"I do not! And keep away from me, you pork-loving Amazon! I don't care what you say, Ranma! Get this through your thick head—I am not going to—"

Ranma grabbed a still-babbling Ryouga by his bandanna.

"—change into—hey, what d'you think you're _doing_?"

And tossed him headfirst into one of the pools.

"I'll get you for this, Ranmaaaa—!"

SPLASH

With lightning-quick speed, Ranma reached into the pool, making sure his skin didn't make contact with the cool water, and pulled out a tiny wriggling, dripping object.

Shampoo and Mousse stared at it.

The little black piglet known to them as P-Chan glared sullenly at them as it dangled in the air. Ranma was holding him by the spotted black-and-yellow bandanna that was now wrapped around the piglet's neck like a collar.

Mousse glanced into the pool where Ryouga had disappeared into. All he saw was Ryouga's sleeveless yellow shirt and dark pants, floating limply on the water.

Ranma grinned at them evilly as he began to set the piglet down. P-Chan squirmed around to take a bite of Ranma's arm, but Ranma sensed the animal's intent and dropped it like a hot potato. The piglet hit the craggy ground squarely on his bottom and emitted an aggravated piggy squeal.

"Well, you were askin' for it," Ranma scolded him. "Now, if I'm right, all you gotta do is go to that waterfall and get under the water." He nudged the animal on the rump with the toe of his foot. "Well? What'cha waitin' for, P-Chan?"

The piglet bweed in protest, but it got up and trotted off in the waterfall's direction, staring daggers at Ranma over its shoulder as it went.

Ranma hurried to the side of the waterfall as P-Chan struggled to clamber onto its bank. Mousse and Shampoo followed, looking on in fascination.

"Upsie-daisy." Ranma applied a little push, and P-Chan scrambled up onto the waterfall's edge. The next second the piglet's hooves slipped on the wet moss and it tumbled headlong toward the water. Ranma lurched forward to grab the animal, but he was too late.

SPLASH

"_Ryouga_?"

The piglet poked its head out of the water and launched into a series of indignant squeals. Then it stopped abruptly and stared down at the water that swirled around its haunches. Its eyes were round as saucers.

"N-nothing happen," Shampoo breathed. Disappointment clouded her countenance.

" 'Course not," Ranma declared. "C'mon, P-Chan, you ain't even under the waterfall yet. Don't worry—the water ain't that deep—even for _you_."

P-Chan looked dazed as it got to its hooves and slowly approached the stream of falling water. It paused an inch between the falls, hesitating. Then it closed its eyes and lodged itself between the pouring water and its ground of impact.

There was a sudden explosion of blue-green light.

Ranma squinted in the glare, even as he strained forward to see what was happening. Some seconds later it dimmed a little, and his eyes goggled as he caught sight of P-Chan—or what _had_ been P-Chan.

Where there should have been a thoroughly-soaked black piglet was a glittering blue kaleidoscopic object with P-Chan's silhouette. And before Ranma's eyes, the little piglet's form began to distort and warp itself into a new form.

It grew a little wider, a little bigger, reshaping itself...

An amazed gasp tore loose from Shampoo's throat.

...into a form that he knew well.

Mousse nearly dropped his glasses in shock.

Without warning, the glow ceased abruptly. Ranma, Shampoo, and Mousse gaped at the spot where, a few seconds before, had been a little black piglet.

Only this time, P-Chan was gone.

In its place was the completely naked figure of Ryouga Hibiki.

He was curled up in a fetal position, perched on his toes, his arms around his folded-up legs. The waterfall continued to pour down his head, trickling down his face, his shoulders, his thighs, and dripping off his eyelashes and the shiny clumps of hair that were plastered down over his bandanna and down his forehead. His wet skin glinted with a pearl-like luminescence, glimmering on well-defined muscles. His eyes were shut.

Mousse decided to protect the innocence of Shampoo's eyes by jumping in front of her, but she was already blushing badly as she punted him aside.

Ranma, meanwhile stood by wordlessly, somewhat bothered by Ryouga's uncharacteristic stillness. _Maybe he's in shock, _he thought.

Ryouga finally moved his lips, his eyes still closed. "Hey, Ranma?"

"Yeah?"

"Gimme my clothes. I'm freezing my butt off."

Ranma smirked widely and performed a mock salute. "Whatever ya say, P-Cha—I mean, Ryouga."

Shampoo and Mousse took their respective dips after that, although Shampoo tried to convince Ranma to take theirs together and Mousse staunchly insisted that she take her dip with him. In the end, Ryouga exasperatedly threw them all into the pool and challenged them to find their own way into the waterfall while he filled his water bottle.

Shampoo had been second. When she relinquished her cat-form and reverted to her normal one, Mousse-Duck flew out and wrapped a robe around her—much to her annoyance. When it was Mousse's turn he somehow managed undergo the reformation with his white Chinese robes still on.

It was Ranma's turn, and he—now a she—approached the waterfall slowly, as if in a trance. Then she stepped into the spray and felt the alteration process run its course.

The entire process was weird—he had to give it that. In that few seconds as he returned to his original form, Ranma was certain that he distinctly felt something rip in two inside of him.

When he pulled himself out of the pool, his clothes soaked but now hundred-percent male, he shoved the disturbing feeling aside and indulged himself in a healthy round of shouting and cartwheels.

"All _right_! No more bein' a guh-hrrl! No more bein' a guh-hrrl! Bwhahahahaha...!"

He even allowed himself an unsettling amount of Kunou-esque laughs before Ryouga, Shampoo, and Mousse dragged him out of the chamber.

They left the Cave of Yasakami, laughing, yelling, high-fiving each other, and simply reveling in the fact they had been forever purged of the Jusenkyo curse. For now, Mousse was not absorbed in his undying love for Shampoo, Ryouga was not wallowing in depression or his hate for Ranma, Shampoo was not clinging to Ranma like seaweed on a rock, and Ranma was not pissing anyone off.

For now.

They were singing as they made their way back to Nerima, with Ranma belting out the lyrics in a horrible falsetto voice and Ryouga letting out a series of vigorous "bwee's" after every chorus.

They all refrained from looking back.

The chamber in the Cave of Yasakami was still and silent, save for the sound of the rushing water from the waterfall. The crystals winked, the waterfall foamed, and the ripples of reflected light continued their perpetual dance across the chamber's ceiling.

The near-silence was broken as one of the pools began to churn. Something reached out of the blue-green froth and grasped at the bank.

It was a human arm.

_End of Chapter Seven_


	9. Chapter 8: Legends

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Eight: Legends

"That which transforms things and fits them together is called change;  
that which stimulates them and puts them in motion is called continuity.  
That which raises them up and sets them forth before all people on earth is called the field of action."

—The _I Ching_; Ta Chuan ("The Great Commentary"), Part I

"Heya, everybody! We're hooome!"

Genma and Soun froze in their contemplation of the Shogi board. Kasumi stopped suddenly as she entered the living room with some tea. Nabiki ceased calculating the figures in her account book. Akari halted her grooming session of Katsunishiki out in the porch. Ukyou and Akane looked like they'd been slapped in their faces.

Their heads all simultaneously turned toward the hallway that led from the front door of the Tendo dojo.

Four figures stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the spears of moonlight that broke through the velvet evening.

For one brief, heart-stopping minute, no one said anything.

Akane scrambled to her feet and spoke. "R-Ranma?"

The boy in the white Chinese shirt snorted derisively. "Of _course_ it's me, you dumb macho chick—"

He braced himself for the mallet that would inevitably find its way onto his skull. Instead, he was caught completely off-guard as Akane Tendo—without the help of Shampoo's passion spice or under the possession of any kind of evil spirit—voluntarily threw herself into Ranma Saotome's arms.

"Ranma! It _is_ you!" Akane sobbed, embracing him tightly. "I—I—wasn't sure that you—"

Everyone gaped in shock, but none more so than Ranma.

He just stood there, an idiotic expression on his countenance, his arms dangling limply at his sides, his eyes glazing over into a limp blue, his mind totally devoid of any sort of coherent thought.

And then he snapped to his senses. "Aw, geez, get a grip, Akane. I'm fine. It ain't like I was gonna die or anythin', ya know..."

Akane blinked, suddenly realizing what she was doing. She immediately disentangled herself from him and shoved him back so abruptly that he reeled backwards, arms flailing as he fought for some sort of leverage. "Uhm, no...o-of course not," she stammered, quickly composing herself. "What was I thinking? I mean, you're always all right, Ranma."

Ranma gawked at her, rubbing the back of his neck. He was on the verge of opening his mouth to deliver a retort when Ukyou Kuonji jumped up and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Of course he's always all right," she declared confidently. "We all know you can't be beat. Isn';t that right right, Ranchan?"

The room watched their performance with interest.

A sweat dollop materialized at the back of Ranma's head. "Uh, well...I guess so." The dollop grew bigger as he saw Akane sending him a murderous glance over Ukyou's white ribbon.

Mousse was grinning as if in an oblivious daze. Shampoo was pinning Ukyou with her patented Amazon Death Stare. And Ryouga...well, Ryouga was watching them with a pensive, wistful look that, as usual, everyone missed.

He had known full well that his spell of happiness wouldn't last. Walking into the Tendo dojo had certainly confirmed that.

_Akane didn't even notice me,_ he thought sadly. _It's as if I'm not even alive—not to her anyway. All she could see was Ranma..._

His mind was beginning to wander into its usual territory—the utter defeat and humiliation of Ranma Saotome—when he suddenly became aware of a pair of decidedly female arms snaking around his waist.

He glanced down, almost absently, and was stunned to see Akane Tendo staring up at him with glittering dark eyes.

Naturally, his brain shorted out.

"I'm glad to see that you're okay, too, Ryouga," she confessed.

And then she did something that would forever be singed into Ryouga's memory.

Akane stood on her tiptoes, tenderly kissed him on the cheek, and whispered something in his ear.

In any other occasion, this little gesture would have given Ryouga Hibiki a dead faint, a coma, or a nosebleed that would have made Old Faithful proud.

This time, however, his reaction was nothing of the above. Instead, it was radically different.

The dazed expression on his face disappeared, and was replaced by something entirely different—something unreadable.

Akane continued to smile up at him while the entire room face-faulted.

Ranma just stared in disbelief, his jaw dropping to the floor.

The spring night was moderately warm and comfortable, but when one was soaking wet and barely-dressed, it was as cold as hell.

There was no way to tell where they were. From what the one in the in the lead could tell, they were located on some hill overlooking an enigmatically familiar town...

There was something leaping about on the rooftops.

Something small, diminutive, and troll-like...

It was heading toward an enigmatically familiar dojo.

The first thing that Ryouga was aware of was Ukyou yelling at him.

Well, she wasn't really yelling at him.

She was crooning.

_That_ was what snapped him out of his reverie.

Ukyou was gripping him by his shirtfront with both hands, shaking him in a way that made his head was loll back and forth. Her greeting was normal enough, he supposed. But her words certainly weren't.

"Why, Ryouga-hon, _I'm_ glad to see you, too," she gushed in a sugary-sweet tone. "Why don'cha tell me what you were up to, silly?"

Ryouga blinked, hearing alarm bells go off in his head. "H-huh?"

She peeked up at him from under her long dark lashes. "Why don't I tell you later, sweetie," she drawled demurely, releasing her hold on his collar. Ryouga's confusion was piqued as she tossed him a sly wink. "Just watch for my sign—if you know what I mean..."

Ryouga raised an eyebrow. He recognized that look on her eyes. Ukyou Kuonji was definitely cooking up a plan—and apparently, he had a part to play in it. He didn't know whether to listen to what she had up her sleeve or run away screaming.

Oh, well. He would hear what she had to say later. But for now, there was something else on his mind...

Akari favored Ukyou with a look that was almost displeasure as she circled her arms around Ryouga. Meanwhile, Ranma was bickering yet again with his fiancée.

"Well, gee, Akane, I didn't know you had the hots for Ryouga now."

"Oh, grow up, Ranma. It was just a little hug."

"Just a little hug, huh? You also whispered somethin' in his ear, too. And what was that—'ooh, Ryouga, you're looking so manly tonight'?"

"Wouldn't you want to know." Akane smirked.

"Well, what _was _it?" Ranma was getting annoyed.

"Why don't you tell me where you went first, huh?"

"I think that's a good idea," Genma interrupted, standing up from his position by the Shogi board.

Soun rose beside him, arms crossed sternly. "Indeed," he agreed, his features solemn. "From the beginning."

Ranma was able to abandon his argument with Akane long enough to exchange conspiratorial glances with Ryouga, Shampoo, and Mousse.

"Might as well," Ryouga shrugged, not meeting his rival's eyes. Akari regarded him quizzically, her arms still clasped loosely around him.

Ranma nodded and trained his gaze back on the others. "All right."

"This had better be interesting," murmured Nabiki, carefully putting away her account book.

"Oh, yes," Kasumi seconded. "Did anything happen to you while you were away?"

A broad smile slowly slithered across Ranma's mouth. "Heh. Why don't I _show _you?" he suggested. With that, he seized a nearby vase filled with water and dumped it on his father's head.

"Growf!" A cry of indignation escaped a sopping wet Genma, now in panda form.

"Ranma! What is the meaning of—"

Ranma raised a finger, effectively silencing Soun. "Watch and learn," he drawled with the trademark impertinence that never failed to make Akane's head steam.

The audience remained wary, however, as Ranma plucked a small canteen out of Ryouga's hand and unscrewed the cap. He then tilted it, intending to empty out the contents onto his father's now-furry top.

Soun, Kasumi, Nabiki, Akane, Akari, and Ukyou watched him in aghast fascination.

"Oh, hold on a minute," said Ranma.

He reached over, produced a ratty old dressing gown seemingly out of thin air, and tossed it recklessly around the huge fidgeting animal.

"Just in case," he informed the spectators with a shrug.

Without further ado he tipped over the container completely and emptied the contents on the agitated panda's furry top.

And almost immediately, the main room of the Tendo Dojo was flooded with a blinding greenish-blue light.

The figure threw up its arm to block against the sudden illumination. A moment later, it lowered its arm, adjusting its vision to the eerie glow that poured out of the dojo's windows. The brilliance seeped from every crack and crevice, pouring across the grounds, flowing over the mesmerized form of the sumo pig watching the proceedings from outside the shoji, and streaking across the back yard and over the Koi pond like molten turquoise.

It was a horrible sense of impending doom that washed over the figure as it recognized the hue of the light that streamed out of the Tendo abode.

The light intensified, infusing the entire structure, so that the whole building began to glow a vivid, eerie blue-green.

The glow finally began to dim.

The denizens of the Tendo household lowered their arms one by one, blinking tentatively as they focused once more on the spot where Genma-panda had been.

Except this time there was no bulky, beady-eyed panda wearing a ratty old dressing gown as it sat on the tatumi mat.

This time there was only a bulky, beady-eyed, waterlogged human man wearing a ratty old dressing gown sitting on the tatumi mat where the panda used to be.

The onlookers were stupefied.

Genma looked even more stupefied than the rest.

"So...does that answer your question?" Ranma queried, grinning smugly as he twirled the canteen on the finger of his left hand.

They all just stared.

Ranma tapped his foot impatiently. "Well?"

They continued to stare.

Ranma was extremely dissatisfied with their seeming lack of a reaction, and was determined to make this known. "Aw, geez—"

Without warning, something sailed swiftly by his head, missing his ear by a couple centimeters, and neatly nailed the canteen in his hand.

The container promptly shattered into a million pieces.

"What the—?" Ranma sputtered, falling back into an automatic battle stance.

He glanced up, baffled, and his gaze settled on the bantam form that was outlined in the middle of the hole that had appeared magically on one of the walls of the Tendo dojo.

Shampoo started forward, ignoring the beginnings of a Soun Tendo property-damage wail.

"Great-grandmother?" she ventured tentatively.

The aged Chinese Amazon known as Cologne shifted her gaze from the shattered container and fixed it on her flabbergasted granddaughter. "Greetings, Shampoo. I'm back."

The next moment she was barraged by questions from all sides.

"Where in the world've you been?" inquired Ukyou.

"Did you see the Chinese Amazon elders like you said?" Mousse demanded.

"That'll be of no consequence once she hears what's happened to us," scoffed Ryouga.

"How can you be certain? We haven't consulted her yet," argued Mousse.

Cologne beat them all off with her staff, which she pried out of the wall with several of the canteen fragments. "Quiet, all of you, if you want to know the knowledge I have accumulated while I was gone!"

That shut them all up. Then Shampoo scooted over to her. "Great-grandmother..." She squatted down respectfully next to the old woman. "Great-grandmother, what you break water bottle for?"

"Yeah, that's what _I_ wanna know," volunteered Ranma, jerking his head toward the remains of the canteen.

Cologne pinned him with a solemn glare. "I have one question first. Where did the water in that container come from?"

"I don't see what this has to do with anything!" Ranma protested.

"_Where did the water come from_?"

Ranma blinked. Her tone meant business. "We—we took it from some cave..."

"Which cave?" persisted Cologne.

There was a surprising undertone of desperation in the old crone's voice, and a sinking feeling slithered into the pigtailed boy's heart. "Yasakami."

Cologne's eyes slowly squeezed shut, and when she opened them again, there was a grimness reflected there that Ranma had never seen on her before.

"Great-grandmother, what wrong?" cried Shampoo, now alarmed.

The old woman scanned the sea of apprehensive faces before heaving a deep, resigned sigh. "Sit down," said she, taking her place on top of the table in the midst of the room. "I have a story to tell you—a legend, rather—about the Dynasty of the Dragon, and perhaps you will understand its connection to the Cave of Yasakami..."

"Are you certain Ryu informed them about the Cave?"

The messenger bowed deeply, his red robes gleaming in the opalescent illumination of the underground chamber. "Hai, Master Shino. They fell right into our trap."

The youthful leader of the Dragon clan let the smallest hint of a smirk drift into his tanned, chiseled features. "Excellent."

"Shall I notify Lord Takuma, Master Shino?" the messenger queried.

"Certainly," agreed the boy, rather carelessly. "After all, doesn't he have the right to be aware that his targets are no longer certifiable if they are now 'cured' of their dual identities?"

The messenger peered at him. "Lord Takuma will not be pleased," he observed, taking care not to seem as if he were contradicting his master's words. "If I heard correctly, I am certain that he was determined to eliminate the last five on the list as he did the others."

"He was, wasn't he?" murmured Shino. A grunt forced its way out of his mouth as he glanced down at his bruised arm.

"Master Shino?" The envoy shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. "Are you all right?"

Shino grimaced a little. "It's nothing. Just a repercussion of the clan's tussle with the upperworlders and their allies."

The messenger raised an eyebrow. "Are they—are they that good?"

"They are," Shino admitted against clenched teeth. "In fact, they put up a much better fight than I expected. That town Nerima is full of martial artists. Very good ones, I must say. I admit I was a bit overconfident." He paused, and another smirk curled his lips. "Of course, I intend not to underestimate them again."

"Of course not," the emissary agreed. "Getting back to Lord Takuma...don't you think that he might be—if I may say so—_irked_ to learn about this newest transpiration of events?"

"Yes, Lord Takuma _would_ be rather annoyed to know that we chose not to finish them off," went on Shino in a monotone, examining the richly detailed hilt of his curved sword. "It would be such a blow to him if he were to find out that he no longer has the justification to apprehend them..." He slipped the blade back into its jeweled scabbard. "...but still, he knows better than to question the will of the Emperor and Empress, does he not?"

The dispatcher shook his head vehemently. "No, of course not, Master Shino. Lord Takuma would not dare go against the Emperor and Empress's wishes, even if they are in contradiction to his own."

"Exactly." Shino grinned disarmingly. "In fact, maybe it would all be for the best if Takuma were to learn that he is not the one with the authority in this empire."

The messenger genuflected, then swiveled around to depart. Then, out of curiosity, he twisted his head around and directed one final question to the pensive-looking young man behind him. "Master Shino, if I may be so bold, may I inquire as to why the Emperor and Empress do not want these last upperworlders taken like the others? Are they not the ones who threaten the reemergence of the Dynasty?"

Shino regarded him calmly. "They are," he answered. "But see, they have taken quite a special interest in these upperworlders—and they don't want them dead just _yet_."

The emissary nodded thoughtfully. "I...see. But, master Shino...what happens after they are supposedly 'purged' of their dual personalities? If that is so, then they would no longer be considered a threat to the Dynasty—"

Shino waved a dismissive hand. "It is not that easy, comrade. But if they have been cured by the Cave of Yasakami, then all we have to do now is lean back, wait, and then send out the oracle." He rubbed his palms together, chuckling. "And then _they_ will come to _us_..."

"There is a place down below us, deep within the bowels of the Earth—a place filled with the descendants of gods and warriors of legend. It is a place long forgotten by many, even though long before it was said to be the dwelling place of the divine beings.

"It was called Takamagahara.

"A long time ago, it was considered an Olympus of sorts—a kingdom fit for the gods to dwell in and rule over. Now they are no more, and there is no one left there in that haven—save for the Dynasty of the Dragon—the descendants of the gods themselves.

"It is an empire that is unlike any other. In an age when Japan and China's histories were intertwined and boundaries were not clearly defined, the Dynasty was the culmination of both China and Japan's systems of monarchy, fused into a single empire that could not be defied. It has existed for centuries; long before the Nara period and the Ashikaga period; long before the feud of the Tairas and the Minamotos; even long before ancient records like the _Kojiki_ and the _Nihon Shoki_ were ever written.

"Yes, the Dynasty once ruled all of the land. Its warrior clan—more widely known as the Clan of the Dragon—was unparalleled, possessing an uncanny strength and unmatched fighting skills that kept myriad armies of would-be challengers at bay.

"When the Ama no Hashidate, the bridge that connected Heaven to Earth, collapsed for unknown reasons, the gods relinquished to the Dynasty authority over the land. They ruled fairly and justly for decades, until their virtually unlimited power finally corrupted them. However, legends also state that the Dynasty was corrupt long before they took control over mankind. In fact, it is rumored that they were the ones who deliberately destroyed the great bridge in order to leave the gods stranded in Heaven. In any circumstance, their rule turned harsh, and in the end, their long-suffering subjects found a way for mere mortals to bring down these 'gods'.

"You see, this Dynasty is composed of supernatural beings—beings with the abilities to exist in two forms—that of humans, and that of powerful serpentine dragons. This was their legacy—one of those signs that showed all that the members of the Dynasty walked a thin line between human and god. But although the gods had left humanity under the heel of its progeny, they did not forsake them completely. Instead, they left humanity with one weapon against the nigh-invincible individuals that constituted the Dynasty: the knowledge that these half-gods, half-dragons would one day be defeated by a handful of humans who existed in dual forms themselves. Only when these people were found would deliverance from the Dynasty come, or so it was foretold.

"And then one day, when the humans thought that they their race was in danger of being wiped out completely by the brutality of the Dynasty's reign, a number of rebel individuals appeared seemingly from out of nowhere. It was strange enough that they appeared at this time and this place, but what was even more unusual was the fact that they all had the ability to switch between two separate bodies—their human ones, and their 'resident' ones.

"Whether it was because the prediction made about the Dynasty's downfall was correct, or whether the humans possessed god-like abilities themselves, the rebels easily infiltrated their stronghold—the haven that was Takamagahara.

"It was a long, fierce battle. The humans fought past guards, minions, sorcerers, the Dragon warrior clan itself, and all the entities and beings that stood in their way until they reached the Emperor and Empress themselves. And in spite of all the powers and skills the half-god rulers had at their disposal, the rebel humans defeated them and banished them and their kingdom deep within the earth.

"But before Takamagahara and the Dynasty of the Dragon disappeared, they delivered a final warning: once they became stronger and remarshaled their forces, they would once again return to reclaim the land that was so rightfully bequeathed to them.

"Although the era of the Dynasty was over, the legends of the dragon people did not cease. In fact, stories tell of exceptional beings like Fu Hsi, who had the tail of a dragon; Ryujin, who was the Dragon King of the Sea and possessed the Tide Jewels; Jimmu Tenno, the first emperor of Japan, who was the son of the daughter of Ryujin, and so forth.

"Throughout the centuries, empires have come and gone. It has been so long that the tale of the Dragon Dynasty has been all but forgotten. But the Elders know that somewhere down below us, the Dynasty has patiently lain in wait, making certain that nothing—absolutely nothing—will stand in the way of their return."

Cologne opened her huge pingpong-ball eyes.

"And so we come to you," she informed the now-quiet room. "This is where _you_ come in. It seems that the Dynasty has now reawakened, and apparently they are bent on eliminating any possible opposition. Or more accurately, oppositions that come in dual forms, much like the humans who proved to be their downfall so many centuries ago."

"Like those who fell into the Jusenkyo Springs," Mousse volunteered, comprehension breaking over his bespectacled features. "That's why they took us in the first place."

"But they—they only came after the five of us," observed Ranma, his forehead furrowing as he reflected on their kidnapping the previous night. "And that Dragon Clan leader mentioned somethin' about Taro already bein' taken care of. But what 'bout Saffron, an' Lukousai, an' Rouge—?"

"They already took Rouge," Cologne interrupted him.

Her declaration was abrupt, almost brusque, and Shampoo's hand flew to her mouth. "They took Shampoo's cousin, Great-grandmother...?"

The old woman's shoulders slumped a little. "I am afraid so," she responded wearily. "The villagers found her not far from the village, lying on her back, her eyes open and not seeing, seemingly dead, and yet still alive. They took her back to Joketsuzoku, where they take turns watching over her, hoping that she will someday awaken out of the lifeless trance she has fallen under."

"They weren't after her life," Ryouga announced with certainty. "They were after the same thing they wanted from me—from us..."

"Exactly. They took her soul." Cologne shook her head, her silvery white hair swishing from side to side like a cleaver. "That is probably the Dynasty's way of verifying that she will not be a threat to them. Killing her would be unsatisfying, at least in their perspective. Death is not as final as you think."

Genma leaned closer. "So...they singled us five out because we are the last ones in their way?"

"Yes," replied Cologne. "No doubt they were the real ones to blame for the destruction of the Jusenkyo Springs. It is safe to assume that they have watched humanity progress throughout the centuries, taking notice of all those with the Jusenkyo curse and all those who exist in dual bodies, eradicating them one by one until it came down to you five—the last of the line, the only ones with the potential to take down the Dynasty of the Dragon once and for all."

"But this doesn't make sense!" Akane exclaimed. "Exactly how are they supposed to defeat the Dynasty anyway? If they're as powerful as you tell us, then how can they possibly defeat something like that?"

"Akane's right," Ukyou chimed in. "I fought with them this morning, and believe me, they were _good_. They knew how to use ki, and they even used magic to launch those water balls at us." She twisted a lock of silky brown hair around her finger. "I—I didn't think that we had a chance of getting out of there...alive."

"Ai-yah. That right. Dragon people very tough," Shampoo declared vehemently.

"I have a slight idea as to how they might be overcome," Cologne answered. "It is a long shot, and for now their defeat may seem unlikely, but mark my word, child: it _can _be done. You must understand that possessing two separate identities in the same body has always held connotations of special powers. In fact, legend has it that the world was created by the separation of two essences: the Yin, the heavier and coarser female elements which formed the earth, and the Yang, the lighter and purer male elements which formed the heavens above."

Akane, Ukyou, and Shampoo frowned at the interpretation of the yin aspect, while across from them Ranma pulled down his eyelid and sent an extra-special 'biiih' directed at Akane, who barely restrained herself from seizing her mallet.

"In Japanese history, the Yin and Yang elements are translated into the In and Yo, but they nevertheless contain similar implications," continued Cologne. "The dual forms that have been given to you courtesy of the Jusenkyo Springs represent this aspect magnificently. The Yin-Yang image is the resolution of contradictions and the unity of opposites into one. Only by merging the Yin and Yang can one achieve The Whole."

Ryouga's hand invariably found its way to the back of his neck. Shampoo glanced at Ranma, who was studying Cologne with a wary expression on his features. Mousse coughed and removed his glasses.

Cologne went on. "According to the old myths, life exists only because of the interchanges between two opposing forces—day and night, Heaven and Earth, good and evil, and so forth. The Yin-Yang philosophy embodies all these struggles, divination, and ambiguities of life."

Akari tightened her arm around Ryouga's. Ukyou shot the two of them a look and scowled. Akane sat transfixed, while Ranma looked increasingly more distressed as Cologne's narration unfolded.

"There is one last important thing about maintaining the dual bodies. Once unification between the two essences is achieved, there is a force that will be released—a force whose sole goal is to eliminate those who seek to disrupt the balance of life. And in the final analysis, it is a force that will ultimately put an end to the Dynasty of the Dragon."

The group was quiet, digesting this newest revelation.

Ranma spoke up. "I still don't see how this has anything to do with the Cave of Yasakami," he declared.

Cologne carefully considered his question. "I will tell you tomorrow," she replied, turning away.

"_What_?" Ranma, Genma, Ryouga, Mousse, Akane, Ukyou, and Soun yelled in a dismayed chorus.

Ranma shoved a path toward the table, his visage distraught. "Hey, whaddaya mean, you'll tell us tomorrow? You said you were gonna tell us tonight!"

"Now is not the time," Cologne told him, her voice maddeningly calm.

"Now is not the time?" echoed Akane incredulously. "How can now _not_ be the time? You know something about the cave they went to, don't you?"

Ryouga backed her up. "There _is _something else about the Cave of Yasakami, isn't there?"

"You have to tell us!" Genma pleaded, beginning to panic.

"You do not understand!" Cologne hopped off the tabletop. "There is nothing I can tell you about the Cave of Yasakami that will be of any use to you tonight."

"Why not, great-grandmother?" Shampoo queried, hands clasped nervously together.

Cologne swiveled about and gently patted Shampoo's cheek in a maternal fashion. "I will explain soon, child, do not worry," she assured the girl. "For now, it is late, and you have all had a very trying day. I suggest that all of you get some sleep first, and in the morning I will reveal everything I know about the Cave of Yasakami."

"But—" Ranma began.

The aged Chinese Amazon woman cut him off with a swipe of her staff. "No buts, son-in-law. There are some things you have to find out first on your own."

Ranma, Mousse, Genma, and Ryouga traded suspicious glances.

" 'Things we have to find out first', eh?" Ryouga said cautiously.

Cologne darted him an enigmatic look that told him nothing.

Ukyou shifted restlessly on the tatumi mat, glancing now and then at an apparently oblivious Ranma. "Uhm...so...what now?"

"Now we get some rest," Cologne said carelessly.

They all blinked at that. "Rest?" Mousse blurted out. "How do you expect us to rest after leaving us with something like that?"

"Well, it _is_ getting rather late," Kasumi pointed out delicately.

Akane rubbed her eyes. "But we still don't have—" She struggled valiantly to stifle a huge yawn. "—all the answers..."

"You will have them tomorrow," affirmed Cologne. "Even you cannot deny that you do need some sleep..."

The room dissolved into a series of grudging murmurs, but Ranma and Ryouga were not to be denied.

"You're not going to leave us here without knowing, are you?" muttered Ryouga.

"Yeah, old ghoul, I ain't gonna get any rest if ya ain't gonna tell me just what the heck's going on with us," declared Ranma.

Cologne cocked a skeptical eye at him. "You are a stubborn one, aren't you, son-in-law?"

"Yeah, well, I just don't like not knowin' about things."

"Well, now." Cologne seemed pleased. "This is a rather interesting proposition. If you really want to know about things, then who am I to refuse? Hear me well, then. There was once a beautiful, resilient young woman who rallied against the shackles of society..."

Akane's interest was momentarily sparked. "Really? Who was she?"

Cologne fluttered her lashless eyes, an action that caused Ranma, Ryouga, and Mousse to rear back in revulsion. "Why, she was _me_, of course," she gushed.

Ryouga bonked his head on the wall, effectively creating a fair-sized hole, while the others performed a synchronized face-fault.

"Whatta haul! Whatta haul!"

These pipsqueaked cries of triumph were being emitted from Nerima's Most Wanted Lecher, who was none other than Soun Tendo and Genma Saotome's old teacher, the infamous Master Happosai. The bag of undergarments strapped to his back was on the verge of exploding as he leaped from roof to roof, cackling lasciviously all the way.

Tonight had been particularly bountiful. He'd managed to score a couple of pure silk panties from one of Nerima's finest lingerie stores, and he'd escaped from Furinkan High girls' locker room with no less than fifty pairs of gym shorts.

Oh happy day—or was it night?

Oh, well.

Without warning, he spotted an unmistakably female figure out of the corner of his eye—a sweet, voluptuous young form bounding along the rooftops about a hundred yards off.

Drooling profusely at the thought of copping a feel from such a well-rounded young lady, he immediately skidded to a halt and spun around, searching greedily for the object of his lusts.

To his bewilderment, there was no one around.

Happosai conducted one last scrutiny of the locale one more time, just to make sure, before hesitantly turning away. _Hmmm, must've been my imagination, _he speculated, feeling a smidgen of disappointment. _Ahh, but what a_ _waste of such a healthy-looking imaginary cutie!_

It was funny, though; for some reason the pint-sized lech could not place his finger on, he was certain that he'd seen that form was familiar...

"...in fact, my beauty was so renowned all throughout China that many a suitor traveled from distant lands to seek my hand. But alas, none of them could defeat me in glorious combat. Ah, every girl in the village of Joketsuzoku envied me! Not only because of my glorious beauty, but also because of my remarkable fighting skills..."

Cologne continued to drone out an autobiographical account of her life, while Genma, Soun, Nabiki, and Kasumi conferred with each other just out of her earshot.

"She has quite a way with youngsters—wouldn't you agree, Saotome?" Soun murmured, visibly awed.

"Indeed," agreed Genma, equally impressed. "See how she drives them to sleep even in the face of impending chaos."

"Oh, my," said Kasumi. "Do you think that the water Ranma poured on you had something wrong with it like Cologne says, Mr. Saotome?"

"I seriously hope not, Kasumi," Genma replied, his eyes narrowing. "I seriously hope not."

Nabiki heaved a patient sigh. "Even so, Mr. Saotome, I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. I mean, what could possibly be worse than turning into a panda every time you get drenched with cold water?"

Genma breathed easier. "I suppose you have a point there, Nabiki."

"Still," the second-eldest Tendo girl reminded him with a little smirk, "keep in mind that _anything _can and will happen in Nerima."

"...and so, after vanquishing the Princess of the Korean Amazons, I found myself face to face with their queen. Fortunately, my superior abilities proved to be overwhelming, and she soon fell at my feet, soundly defeated. Upon seeing this, the prince of the Korean Amazons knelt before me and pledged to me his undying love—"

ZZZzzz_snort_

Cologne was shaken out of her reverie by a round of loud snoring. With a start, she realized that her—literally—captive audience had fallen asleep.

"Well!" she huffed. "Of all the nerve—!"

"Maybe it's better if they keep on sleeping," Nabiki observed, crossing her arms. "There's no telling what's going to happen once they're all awake."

"But—but what about _them_?" Soun cried, jabbing his finger toward the seven slumbering forms clustered around the dining table.

"How wonderful!" Kasumi piped up, smiling cheerfully. "We have overnight guests again!"

"The gods must hate me," Soun moaned.

"Still, this little scene does present some interesting possibilities—wouldn't you agree, Tendo?"

Soun glanced at him, baffled. "Why, whatever do you mean, Saotome?"

"I'm saying that we could—mmm, say—_help_ Ranma and Akane into a room of their own..." He was grinning like a madman, his teeth still chipped where one of the Dragon clan had socked him. "So what do you say, Tendo? Shall we help them 'warm' up to each other?"

Soun began to cackle, his mind starting to spin with the various favorable outcomes. "Heheheh...indeed, Tendo. Indeed."

Cologne whapped them both.

BONK BONK

"And you two," she grated. "The very idea, setting up son-in-law and Akane in a situation like that! What kind of sick mind would be capable of forcing two people together with such brutal and artificial means?"

"The kind of sick mind that would use love pills to bag a guy more than two hundred years her junior," Nabiki confided to Kasumi as they departed for their bedrooms.

Soun and Genma deposited Akane and Ranma in their respective rooms, with Cologne watching them like a hawk all the way. They decided to leave Ryouga, Akari, Ukyou, and Mousse in the main room, reasoning that there was no point in rousing them out of their sleep.

The lights flickered out of the Tendo dojo, while outside Katsunishiki curled up on the porch, completely unaware of the several armor-clad figures lingering about the shrubbery and roof, continuing their relentless surveillance over the house.

_End of Chapter Eight_


	10. Chapter 9: Dreams

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Nine: Dreams

"Inviting dreams,  
The sound of the mountain temple bell  
Tumbles on foothills,  
And with clouds the night grows deep  
Where on a peak a lamp still glows."

—Sogi, "Bell of an Old Temple"

She's going to lose you.

Mist. Dark, swirling, oppressive mist.

It filled his nostrils, inebriating him, making his head spin. It smelled of incense, antiquity, and something ominous and sweetly arcane.

She's going to lose you.

The aroma was also one of solitude and decay, and he narrowed his eyes. He was in some sort of subterranean chamber—a cave perhaps?—filled with swirling clouds of an eerie blue-green fog. His skin was tingling under his red Chinese shirt, and the tip of his pigtail stood out in tense spikes. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something—anything—was going to happen.

She's going to lose you.

Whirling around indignantly, he prepared to face his tormentor. But there was nobody there.

She's going to lose you.

He whirled again. Nobody. He was all alone in this place, save for the mist that curled and twisted as if it were alive, and the disembodied voice that emitted from everywhere around him.

She's going to lose you.

He was definitely getting annoyed.

"Shut up already!" he yelled, his voice reverberating back and forth against walls he could not see. "Who the heck are you, anyway? What're you talkin' 'bout?"

The abrupt silence that ensued rang deafeningly in his ears.

"_Answer _me!"

A low humming sound began, and he twisted around blindly in the dimness.

She's going to lose you...

He gritted his teeth, feeling himself teetering on the edge of exasperation. "Stop talkin' in riddles—who's gonna lose me anyway?"

A sliver of light speared the smoky haze. Turning, he caught sight of a shimmering blue-green halo materializing a few feet away from him. An image came into focus in the middle of the halo, momentarily startling in its simplicity.

It was the same face he'd seen when he'd stared into his own soul.

She's going to lose you, Ranma Saotome.

He felt the strength being siphoned from his body, and he crumpled to his knees into the midst of the whirling fog. He couldn't move, or open his eyes, or even twitch his little finger.

For the first time in a long while, Ranma Saotome felt completely helpless.

She's going to lose you, the voice droned on, caressing and rough, tender and taunting, affectionate and disdainful. It was lulling him toward a fake security, a false comfort—a promise of contentment that would not be fulfilled. It was also vaguely female.

It was only by summoning an intense amount of concentration that Ranma was able to move his mouth. "Why?" he whispered, his chest racking, eyes burning. "Why...?"

He felt the briefest touch of cool lips on his forehead.

Because, Ranma Saotome, you are mine.

"Who _are_ you? I demand that you show yourself!"

He was back in the cave filled with crystals. Everywhere he looked, the mirror-like pieces of mineral reflected back to him his own face, rendered almost unrecognizable by an expression of anger and panic.

"What is it you want?" he shouted to no one in particular.

No. The voice that drifted into his ear was sudden, yet soothing, with the all the texture of sand-papered glass. It was male, as far as he could tell. What is it _you _want?

He blinked, caught momentarily off-guard. "M-me?"

You. Is there something that you long for the most? Something that you treasure deep in your heart—something that you know you can never have...?

There was only one thing that flashed through his fevered mind.

To his horror, the object of his thoughts was reflected onto the thousand crystal shards that littered the craggy walls around him. Out of the corners of his eyes, he could discern purple blurs.

"N-no," he choked out. "Not Shampoo...what are you planning to do with my beautiful Shampoo...?"

The crystals winked at him.

How bad do you want her, Mousse?

He closed his eyes. "You cannot...you cannot possibly know..."

Well, then, how much are you willing to do for her?

"What—what do you m-mean—"

How much are you willing to give up?

Mousse froze, his spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. "How much I..."

She can be yours, you know.

Had he heard wrong? Shampoo...would be...his?

A thrill of hope thrummed deep inside his heart—a hope that he hadn't dared to nurse for a long, long time...

She will be yours, Mousse—but remember, there is always a price to pay...

She'd never seen a more beautiful room.

The scalloped ceiling loomed high above her, looking like a sky woven out of feathery opalescent clouds. The walls, if that was what they were, glowed with a clear crystalline hue. Ripples of light flickered across the chamber, emitting from a magnificent fountain situated in the midst of the room.

She'd never been in a more beautiful room—and she'd never felt so uneasy in her entire life.

Something was definitely wrong. She could practically sense it in the bleak atmosphere of the room she was standing in right now.

Hmm. Been a long time since I've seen your kind.

She wheeled around at the voice. For some reason, she wasn't particularly surprised to discover that there was no one else around.

"What you mean, 'my kind'?" she demanded.

You are a Chinese Amazon, are you not? They were quite an inconvenience to us, even back then. What a coincidence it is that you should be one of the Cursed. But I admit I cannot complain. You are an exquisite thing—assured in your strength, fiery in your determination, and lethal in your beauty. Yes, you remind me much of her.

Shampoo glanced down. She was wearing an exquisite silk dress festooned with intricate spiral designs. With some detached interest, she noted that somewhere among the swarms of circles was the serpentine form of a dragon.

The faintest fragment of a recollection surfaced somewhere in her dream-fogged brain. "Ranma...where Ranma...?"

Ranma...Ranma...hmm. There was a brief pause. Ah, yes. Ranma Saotome. The boy with the pigtail, yes? You'll have to pardon me if he cannot be here right now. You see, I happen to know that he is rather preoccupied at the moment...with _her_.

Shampoo caught her breath. " 'Her...'?"

Is that trepidation I sense in your tone? The voice was mockingly sympathetic. Concern, perhaps? Worry?

Bringing her hands up, she rubbed them up and down her bare arms. A draft of frigid air had penetrated the chamber. "Shampoo no worried about Ranma going with another girl! He care about Shampoo, you see!"

Is that so? There was a hint of skepticism in the voice. Then who is this girl I see within his soul?

The water in the fountain began to bubble, spilling froth over the rosebud ceramic tiles.

Shampoo's eyes widened as she recognized the face of the girl in the water. Agony was etched into her features as she tore her gaze away. "That no true!" she protested. "Ranma no love her! She nothing but crazy violent tomboy—even Ranma say so!"

The voice was soft, almost pleasant. Maybe things aren't always what they seem, Amazon girl. You, of all people, must know that now...more than ever...

She only mildly astonished as a searing pain ravaged her shoulder. Her legs folded down after her like a telescope, and her purple mane flared out around her like a flower in bloom as she laid her head down upon the floor.

You see, Shampoo, I _always _make sure that my solicitors pay me nothing less than everything they can offer...

Flowers.

From everywhere around him, he could smell them. The heady scent of a hundred exotic flowers.

He was in a garden of some sort. The moon hung suspended amongst a fleet of stars, a milky orb that illuminated the faint forms of shrubs and flower bushes. In front of him was a little footpath that gleamed brightly in the moonlight. A closer inspection of the path revealed that it led straight to an odd-looking tree in the middle of the garden.

He walked toward the tree, stepping stiffly onto the silver-gilded trail like an automaton. There was something—someone—calling out to him, and try as he might, there was no way he was going to be able to resist it.

He saw her then, and his breath caught.

She looked like a vision as she sat there at the foot of the tree. Her long golden hair shimmered like ripples in a clear mountain stream, and drops of liquid sunset shone in her teardrop-shaped eyes. She was wearing a dress that seemed to be woven out of gossamer thread, and her complexion was as smooth and golden as the wavy locks of hair that framed her face.

She seemed to emanate an aura of perpetual innocence from her entire being, and yet there was something about her that made him pause as he approached her.

Her eyes locked on his, and there was no trace of hostility in them. Rather, they were warm and twinkling with invitation.

Come here. Her voice resounded in his ears and all around him, ringing with the inflection of a thousand tiny bells.

He obliged, feeling every bit of self-consciousness dissolve like cotton candy in the rain.

Come closer. Yes, that's it, boy. Closer. She was smiling now.

He stepped closer to her, as if under a trance, and she reached out, running her slender index finger down his cheek.

Mmm, very good, she declared, raking her gaze over his face and down his body. Much better than I expected. You will do nicely, Ryouga Hibiki.

It was as if the emerald fire that used to rage within Ryouga's eyes had been extinguished, and all that remained in them was a dull green smoke. He felt lethargic—too tired to even think. The tiniest part of his mind, however, continued to rebel.

_No...Akane...I must not betray Akane..._

As if reading his thoughts, the girl lay a finger on his lips, effectively silencing him. No. No Akane. No more Akane, or Akari, or anybody else...

The night breeze ruffled the bow on his bandanna, lifting their hair, rustling her dress and cooling his skin.

Tell me what you want, and it will be yours, Ryouga Hibiki. Her hand dropped from his mouth and ran up his arm, then slipped underneath his shirt onto his bare chest.

He shivered, and she smiled again, a dragon's smile.

And you—you are _mine_...

Ryouga Hibiki woke up in a cold sweat.

All of his nerves and synapses were on the verge of exploding into a thousand tiny shards, gearing into overdrive, despite the fact that just a moment ago he'd been asleep.

A bright glare appeared to be on the other side of his eyelids.

_Where...where am I...?_

It was a question he'd been asking strangers—as well as his not-so-close acquaintances—most of his life. Mostly he asked himself that when he was awake, but he also asked himself that when caught between slumber and wakefulness.

He found himself in the last place he expected.

Blinking rapidly, he tensed up and glanced around. _I'm...in the living room...of the Tendo Dojo,_ he realized with a start. _But how did I end up here...?_

Then he remembered. He must have drifted off to sleep here last night after enduring two grueling minutes of Cologne's glory-laden account of how she became the most renowned Chinese Amazon in Joketsuzoku, complete with a chronological listing of all her amazing exploits. All right, so maybe some parts of it were interesting, but he doubted their validity—especially when she'd narrated that yarn about the way she had averted a flood in Joketsuzoku by using own body like a living dam. After that the story had driven him to unconsciousness faster than the Hiryu Shoten Ha or any kind of knockout pill.

It was odd, he mused. Leaving him here in the living room of the dojo—in full sight of the shoji doors—was a big risk. If the Dynasty had willed it, then they could easily break through the entrance, seize him, and suck up his soul without a moment's hesitation.

And then he remembered. He was cured.

Good-bye, P-Chan. Hello, Akane...

His head snapped up, eyes wide. _Akane!_

Brimming over with sudden exuberance, he barely had time to register the million thoughts that ran through his mind.

_At last, I have a chance...I can finally win Akane—as a man..._

Ryouga attempted to stand up from his sitting position, and then he froze.

He was trapped.

In the midst of a trio of slumbering girls.

Mousse heard her, even as he floundered about in the currents of sleep. He could recognize her voice—anywhere, anytime, even in his dreams...

Except he knew he wasn't dreaming.

He opened one eye, blinked as his poor vision kicked in, then pulled down his round spectacles from its precarious angle on top of his head. The scene before him melted together into jarring clarity.

Shampoo was moaning.

And her head was on Ryouga's lap.

_Okay...if I shift a little to the left—yeah, that's right—not too quick now—then maybe I could..._

Ryouga gulped as another tiny moan escaped Shampoo's lips. Akari shifted restlessly on his left side, while Ukyou burrowed her head deeper onto his right shoulder, her white silk bow brushing his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to collect his frenzied thoughts.

_How—how did this happen to me...?_

"Ryouga Hibiki! Get your _hands _off my beautiful Shampoo!"

His eyes snapped open in alarm, only to discover an enraged Mousse bearing down on him, armed with his legions of chains, ax blades, and a rubber chicken.

"Aaaarrrrghhh—!"

Mousse slammed right into him, sending the both of them tearing out through the wall Ryouga had been leaning on.

CRASH

There would be another hole to repair in the Tendo dojo.

Ranma Saotome was jolted out of his febrile slumber by a series of noises coming from somewhere outside.

His defenses automatically kicked in, and he scrambled out of his futon, fists raised, adrenaline pumping, fully expecting another ambush by the Dragon clan.

To his immense surprise, there was no one in the room—save for the thickset form of his still-snoring father sprawled on the adjoining bed.

Ranma shuddered a little, feeling the last fragments of a dream slowly vacating his mind. He swiped damp bangs away from his eyes, noting with some apprehension that Shampoo was nowhere to be seen in the room.

THUD

He was taken aback momentarily as something was flung hard against the wall outside. "What the—"

Genma rolled over and promptly whapped his son on the head with a spare pillow. "Keep it down, boy! I'm trying to sleep here!"

Ranma bopped him in the head in retaliation. "_Hey_! That ain't me, old man!"

Rubbing his scalp in a disgruntled fashion, Genma Saotome propped himself up with one arm and glared up at his son. "Then who, pray tell, is making that infernal racket?"

Ranma opened his mouth to reply, but he snapped it closed the next second as the sound of yelling drifted in from outside.

_No way...that sounds like...like..._

"Answer me when I'm talking to you, boy! Who is—oomph!"

Genma was interrupted as Ranma plowed over him, making a beeline toward the door.

"I never imagined that you would stoop this low!"

"I already told you, Mousse—it was an accident! I had nothing to do with it, I swear!"

"_You shall pay, Hibiki_!" And with that, Mousse tossed up the chicken he held in his hand, which in turn launched a volley of explosive eggs.

Ukyou, Akari, and Shampoo appeared at the porch, joined shortly by a slightly irked-looking Akane. Despite the fact that they'd been unceremoniously yanked from the arms of sleep, the girls were definitely wide-awake now as they watched the two brawlers face off against each other in the dojo courtyard.

"Ryouga! Mousse! What d'you think you're doing?" shrieked Akane.

"Ai-yah! Stupid Mousse—you stop that right now!" commanded Shampoo.

Mousse halted his assault on Ryouga long enough to adopt a noble countenance before his love. "Fear not, Shampoo," he declared gallantly. "For I, Mousse, shall defend your honor against this—this cur!"

"What you talking—" Shampoo began.

"So...where were we?" continued Mousse, training his attention once more on his flabbergasted opponent. "Ah, yes..." He whipped out a toilet from the confines of his robes and propelled it toward Ryouga. "_Die_, Hibiki!"

The other boy dodged the porcelain object, irritation starting to creep onto his features. "Mousse, Ididn't_—_"

"Silence! It appears that you have been influenced by that coward Ranma after all!"

Bad choice of words. Anyone who was Ryouga Hibiki's acquaintance knew full well that the quickest way to piss him off was to compare or mention him on the same sentence as Ranma Saotome.

It was Ukyou who first noticed the warning signs, and she hastily attempted a stab at peace. "H-hey, you jackass! Mousse was just kidding. Aheheh...right, Mousse? Mousse?"

Ryouga's battle aura was beginning to radiate outward in alarming waves. His words came out in a low, dangerous growl.

"Don't..." He ducked a stray egg. "...ever..." He jumped over a battery of chains. "...compare me..." A mace attached to a chain zoomed toward him, but his reflexes kicked into gear and he caught it firmly. "...to..." Mace firmly in hand, he yanked it forward, sending Mousse hurtling toward him. "..._Ranma_!"

Mousse whisked something out of his robes and shut his eyes.

There was a painful, resounding crack as Ryouga's fist connected with solid porcelain.

Shards of the shattered toilet were flung everywhere, and Ryouga recoiled from the impact. Seizing the advantage, Mousse tossed away the remnants of the shield-toilet and charged at Ryouga in a blind rage.

"YAAAAAAAAAHH—_gurgle_"

SPLASH

The duel ended the way most of the duels in the Tendo dojo ended—in the Koi pond.

"This is too weird," Ranma murmured.

Mousse and Ryouga's slightly insane laughter punctuated his words. They were cackling even as they sat thigh-deep in the Koi pond.

"I'll say," seconded Genma, his visage grave. "A commotion erupts early in the morning at the Tendo dojo, and for once my son has nothing to do with it."

BAM

"This ain't funny, Pop." Ranma extracted his elbow from the crater it had created on his father's face. "Don'cha think that this's just a little too weird?"

"Ranma's right, Mr. Saotome," Ukyou piped up, looking worried. "Maybe Mousse and Ryouga aren't the best of friends, but they do get along. But just now Mousse was mad at Ryouga about something."

"Come to think of it, he did mention that _you_ had something to do with it," Nabiki noted, giving Shampoo a matter-of-fact glance.

Shampoo assumed an indignant look. "Ai-yah! Mousse stupid boy, that all. He not know what he talk about sometimes!"

"Either that," Ukyou added, "or maybe Ryouga _did_ try something funny with you, jackass that he is."

Akari, predictably enough, rose to Ryouga's defense. "Oh, no...Ryouga-sama would never do anything like that!"

"Yeah!" Akane put in. "I know Ryouga would neverdo that!"

Ranma scowled at her. "An' how'd ya know that, Akane?" he queried, his voice dripping causticity. "Lemme tell you somethin' if ya think he's so honorable—"

"Oh, grow up, Ranma!" Akane rolled her eyes. Inside, though, her heart was doing somersaults. _Ranma...he sounds like...like he's_ _actually jealous..._

His next statement, however, wasn't exactly sweet. "I ain't the one who needs growing...in fact, I could think of some places on ya that're just achin' for growth!" retorted Ranma.

Akane's face fell, but she recovered nicely, though inwardly her blood was beginning to boil. "Oh, yeah? Well, you—"

"What do _you_ think of this, Tendo?" Genma questioned, turning deaf ears on Round Two of Ranma and Akane's commencing argument.

Soun rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "For starters, Saotome, it does appear indeed that there is something not quite right here..."

"If that is your assumption, then I must say that it is correct."

They all swung their heads down simultaneously, just in time to recognize the diminutive figure standing calmly in their midst.

"Great-grandmother!" breathed Shampoo. "You come back..."

"Of course," said the wizened old woman, flipping her long silver hair nonchalantly over her shoulder. Oscillating, she trained her eyes on their anticipative faces. "Now, if you all are ready, then let us proceed inside. No sense letting the details fall on strangers' ears." She nodded toward the Koi pond. "So if you could calm those two down and have them join us, then I will explain what this madness is all about..."

"I gotta talk to you later, Ryouga."

Ryouga wiped his saturated bangs out of his eyes and found himself looking into Ukyou Kuonji's sparkling blue eyes. "About what?" he queried, though not a bit suspiciously.

She tipped her head coquettishly to one side. "You know...things."

The memory of her crooning in his ear immediately sprang to his mind, and he tensed somewhat. "Oh...you wanna talk to me about that plan of your—"

Her sweet, coy facade vanished, and the next second she had him pinned solidly with one hand to the wall of the hallway. Her other hand was clamped on his mouth, ultimately silencing him. "You jackass!" she hissed, switching back into her aggressive, masculine mode. "Not so loud! You want everyone to hear?"

Ryouga twisted his head to the side, freeing his mouth from her hand. "What're you talking about?" he hissed back, equally vexed. "This _is _about a plan, isn't it?"

They regarded each other defiantly for a minute. Then Ukyou glanced down and realized, with some consternation, that the dampness from his shirt was leaking into her clothes. The water had escaped into her collar and there were trickles methodically tracing the cleave of her chest. She relaxed her grip on him and stepped back, breathing deeply as she pressed the front of her blouse to her skin, allowing the fabric to seep up the wetness.

"You know, sugar, you can be really dense sometimes," she told him, her voice low. "In fact, it's a wonder I even put up with you if I didn't need you right now."

"Need me? For what?" Ryouga was instantly alert.

Her only response was to grace him with a tiny half-smile. "To break up Ranma and Akane, what else?"

Ryouga started. "Break up Ranma and Akane? How—"

She smiled again at him, and this time, it was a full-fledged, billion-megawatt smile. "Explain later, Ryouga-hon," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the main room of the Tendo dojo. "We wouldn't want _them _getting suspicious now, would we?"

As if on cue, Akane's voice drifted over toward them from the other room. "Ryouga? Are you okay? Come have some breakfast with us!"

"Ahh...I'll b-be there, Akane!" Ryouga managed to squeak. He turned to Ukyou, still blushing badly, and she sent him a knowing look.

"_What_?" he demanded. She was making him nervous.

Her face was practically brimming over with self-congratulatory mirth. "Nothing." She brushed past him, pausing for the briefest instant to relay to him some last instructions. "I'll tell you all about it later, okay?"

Ryouga gazed after her as she proceeded on ahead, the implications of her newest plan swirling about his head.

"Are you coming over here, young man, or shall I have to begin my narrative without you?" Cologne called.

He snapped out of his cogitation and shuffled on down to breakfast.

Exhausted. Cold. Dirty.

That was how they felt at this moment, at the end of a long, long journey, carried out in the span of a long, long night. Each step had been faltering and weak, as though conducted with the strength and expertise of a toddler. The night air had been cold and dank, seeping into their bones, rendering their joints stiff and sore. Dirt caked their faces and limbs, drying in the glare of the morning sun.

The trek was over. They'd survived, and they'd finally arrived at their destination.

It had been a virtual cakewalk breaking into the domicile. The denizens of the house appeared to be engrossed in their daily morning ritual down in the main room, and thus there was no one around on the second floor to intercept the two intruders as they dropped in via one of the windows.

The one in front strolled languidly down the empty corridor, studying the surroundings with a practiced eye, while its companion scampered off in the opposite direction.

The entrance to a certain room caught the figure's attention. After some recalcitrance, the door swung open and the intruder sauntered through. When the door swung closed on its hinges, there was a tiny metallic sound as the lock scraped against the latch, but it did not go in.

Kasumi was in the kitchen, humming, as she prepared second helpings of taki-soba noodles for the ravenous assemblage in the main room. Genma and Soun sat at their usual spot near the Shogi board, while Ranma, Akane, Ryouga, Ukyou, Mousse, Shampoo, Akari, and Nabiki were clustered around the dining table, listening raptly as Cologne spoke.

"The Cave of Yasakami...who would have believed that it does, indeed, exist? No one, perhaps—not even the ancestors of the Chinese Amazons, who have been reputed to conduct extensive searches for such a cave. For centuries, the cave has remained just that—a story, one concocted by the Dynasty itself as a venue of false hope.

"Yes, the Dynasty was the one who first introduced the concept of the cave. The name 'Yasakami' that was taken from one of the Dynasty's most precious treasures—the Yasakami-no-Magatama, a blue-green jewel shaped like one half of a yin-yang.

"Now, this jewel was only one of the three most prized possessions of the Dynasty—all of which harbor secrets and undreamed of by any human. They are the Yasakami-no-Magatama, which I have already told you about; the Murakamo-no-Tsurugi—the Sword of Murakamo; and finally the Yamato-no-Kagami—the Mirror of Yata.

"Now all these objects are held sacred because of the incredible power that lies sealed within each one. Those are what gave the Dynasty its omnipotence—what kept them in might in the centuries the gods disappeared from the earth.

"It is said that from the Yasakami-no-Magatama came the Cave of Yasakami—the last resort of those who were under a curse.

"Yes, a curse. A bad-luck curse, a love curse—any kind of curse, including that of having two separate bodies. The Cave of Yasakami was said to be able to purge one from any sort of curse—even that of the dual-body variety."

Ranma frowned. "Well, it worked. So what's your point, old ghoul?"

Cologne turned her gaze toward him. "Tell me something first, son-in-law...did anything odd happen to any of you last night or today?"

"You mean besides Ryouga putting the moves on Shampoo?" Ranma joked, earning himself a glare from his rival.

"I already explained what happened, Ranma," growled the bandannaed boy. "I didn't_ do _anything, you got that?"

"I wish I could believe that, Hibiki," snorted Mousse.

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"Well, I saw you forcing yourself upon my beloved Shampoo with my own eyes!"

"_What_?"

"Ai-yah! You do that, Ryouga?"

"N-n-no! Of course not!"

Cologne turned to Genma and Soun. "You. Did anything else happen in the last twelve hours aside from this?"

"Why, no, not anything I can recall," replied Genma, confused.

"Hmmm." The crone appeared thoughtful. "So...you are absolutely certain that nothing at all happened?"

Shampoo abandoned her wary inspection of Ryouga long enough to consider the old woman's inquiry. "Shampoo not think of this before, Great-grandmother, but...Shampoo have this crazy dream last night..."

Cologne snapped her attention toward her granddaughter, her eyes narrowing. "You say you had an unusual dream, Shampoo?"

"Ai-yah!" Shampoo nodded resolutely, her purple hair bobbing up and down. Then she sobered a little. "Shampoo remember only little, but she remember it well. It so strange..."

"How unusual," Mousse spoke up suddenly. "I, too, had an odd dream."

"Hey, so did I," Ranma volunteered.

"Yeah, me, too," Ryouga seconded, glad for the distraction.

Cologne raised a curious eyebrow. "A dream, eh? Interesting, indeed.Very interesting." She took a swallow of herbal tea. "So they have resorted to dreams now, eh?" she muttered, half to herself. "Since they are now unable to intercept you in reality, then they attempt to get to you through your dreams..."

"Whaddaya mean, 'get to us'?" interjected Ranma.

The old woman peeked at him at the corner of her eye. "I told you yesterday, son-in-law. You five are their only liabilities—the only ones who can stop the Dynasty. It is only rational, then, that they must keep watch over you, making certain that you do not live up to the Prophecy."

"So...that means that the Dynasty's making sure that Ranma and the others don't get in their way when they begin their conquest, right?" queried Nabiki.

"Yes. They are vulnerable against those with the Yin-Yang essence—dual forms. At least, that is what has been written."

"Well, a lotta good _that'll_ do us," Ranma remarked sarcastically. "I mean, how're we gonna be able to defeat those Dragon jerks if we ain't cursed no more?"

Cologne oscillated toward him, raising an eyebrow. " 'Cursed no more', eh, son-in-law?"

There was something in the way she delivered her reply that made a chill crawl up Ranma's spine. "What'cha talkin' 'bout, old ghoul?"

"This." A quick sweep of the staff indicated the pieces of Ryouga's canteen that remained on the floor, forgotten in the light of last night's revelation. "Or, to be more precise, the _water_ that was in this."

"But—but the water in there purged us of the Jusenkyo curse," stammered Mousse. "I—I still cannot comprehend why—"

"It was Yasakami water." Cologne's tone was tart. "A worse solution you could not have found, son-in-law."

"Whaddaya mean?" demanded Ranma. "Thanks to that water, I don't hafta turn into a girl no more! I'm cured! We're all cured! I can even show you if you like!" He got up and began to pace. "You tryin' ta tell me that there's somethin' wrong in that?"

Shampoo appraised her great-grandmother with anxious eyes. "Great-grandmother...what wrong with water?" she questioned her softly.

Cologne squeezed her own eyes shut. "Ah, Shampoo, if only I had gotten here on time, I would have been able to prevent you from pursuing the Yasakami cure..."

"What's going to happen to us?" Genma cried, looking as if he were ready to emit a Soun-Tendo patent wail.

"What—what're you saying?" Ryouga jumped to his feet, starting to panic. "Does...does this 'cure' have any side effects or something?"

"No, boy...no side effects at all."

Ranma pinned her with a disbelieving stare. "But...I thought you said—"

The ancient Chinese Amazon let out her breath in one resigned whoosh. "What I said is that it doesn't have any side effects. And yes, you _have_ been cured. I do not doubt that at all, no."

Nabiki tapped an elegant fingernail against the wooden dining table. "So what's wrong already?"

Cologne spared her a disapproving glimpse at her impatient tone, but she cut to the chase. "I'm telling you that there although you may have rid yourselves of the Jusenkyo curse, you may have inadvertently placed yourselves in an even deeper dilemma."

"And that is...?" Ukyou trailed off.

The old woman clasped her stick closer to her.

"You all have been cured," she said at last, "but at a price. The curse of Jusenkyo may no longer be upon you, but you have another curse in its place—the curse of Yasakami."

_End of Chapter Nine_


	11. Chapter 10: Arrival

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Ten: Arrival

"Would you know  
If destiny hit you between the eyes?  
Would you know  
If the fates cuffed you upon the face?  
Would you realize?"

—excerpt from an old Chinese ballad

Akane was speechless. It couldn't be—it was too cruel, too inhuman a joke. How could they have known? How could anyone have known? How could Ranma and the others have known that their last chance of salvation would turn out to be the source of their damnation?

In their desperation to find a cure, they'd grasped at something they barely had any knowledge about, and in the end that had proven to be their undoing.

There wasn't a cure after all. There had never been a cure.

But Ranma had believed that there was, and he had paid dearly for that belief by bringing a new curse upon him and the other former Jusenkyoites' heads.

_No._ Akane shook her head. It hadn't been Ranma's fault. The Shoryuu had fooled him. They'd all been fooled.

Ranma was still pacing about restlessly, his features livid with fury. "Why, those—those _bastards_!" he snarled. "I can't believe they—I should never have—if I ever get my hands on them, I'll..."

"It wasn't your fault, Ranchan," Ukyou soothed him.

"She's right, son-in-law," Cologne consoled him. "This is nobody's fault. In fact, if it is anyone's fault at all, it is mine for not being able to stop you."

Ryouga glanced up, his green eyes glazed over in shock. "So...what does this mean?" he asked hollowly.

Cologne sighed. "Young man, do you recall that I mentioned that in order for the Jusenkyo curse to be eliminated, there had to be a price to pay first?"

Ryouga indicated yes.

"Well, in exchange for a cure, the Cave of Yasakami took the very same things the Dynasty was after when they pursued the five of you."

The boy's face went pale. "And those are..."

"...our souls," finished Shampoo softly.

Cologne nodded. "Exactly. You traded your souls. And since the Jewel of Yasakami is currently in the possession of the Dragon Dynasty, then your souls are now with them."

There was a brief, stunned silence.

Genma chose this moment to emit a bona fide Soun-Tendo wailing tirade. "What d'you _mean_, I'm going to lose my soul? I don't want to lose my soul yet! I'm too young and handsome to die!"

Shampoo, Mousse, Ryouga, Ukyou, Akari, Soun, Akane, and even Nabiki remained sitting, too overwhelmed by the news to speak.

"Of course," allowed Cologne, her tone grave, "there _is _one last thing."

They all regarded her fearfully, no doubt dreading what more gut-wrenching revelations the old woman had to dispense on their behalf.

"We'll have to wait and see whether any of you even have Curse of Yasakami. There is a fifty-percent chance that you didn't even acquire the curse, after all."

BAM

The entire group face-faulted, their limbs crooked in perfect ninety-degree angles.

Ryouga was the first back on his feet. "Why didn't you say that earlier?" he yelled.

Ranma joined him, equally indignant. "Yeah—you coulda saved us the heart attack, old ghoul!"

Cologne scowled at her son-in-law's usual impetuousness. "You didn't ask," she retorted.

Akane stood up. "This is getting way too weird for me," she muttered, walking over the shoji doors. "Call me when something _serious_ comes up." And with that, she stepped out into the patio, sliding the doors closed behind her.

Ryouga was about to follow her, but he couldn't when he was being subjected to Ukyou's warning glare, as well as Akari's soulful one, and with a sigh he sat back down. Still, he wasn't about to let the matter drop. "Are you just gonna sit here while Akane's out there all alone, Ranma?" he asked the other boy pointedly.

Ranma shot him a condescending look. "What am I, her shadow? It's broad daylight, Ryouga, and besides, the Dragon clan ain't after _her_, remember?"

The lost boy grumbled under his breath, but he refrained from cracking a rejoinder.

Ukyou twisted around toward Cologne. "So...that's it?" she demanded, incredulous. "If they don't have the curse, they're fine, right?"

"Don't be too hasty there, child," admonished the old woman. "What we do now is wait."

Ranma's enthusiasm dissipated somewhat at this. "Wait for what?"

Cologne crooked an eye at him. "The symptoms of the curse, of course," she answered rather casually. "In the meantime, why don't you tell me about those dreams you had last night..."

SPLISH

Water gushed out from the side and drenched the already slippery tile floor. Legions of tiny rainbow-hued bubbles twinkled on the porcelain rim.

This was dangerous. There was no denying that. Still, the feel of one's body immersed in warm, frothing water was exhilarating. It was certainly a nice change of pace, especially after feeling water-logged and dirty after that long excursion.

_Just a little more._ The figure leaned back and closed its eyes. _The others can wait. Just a little longer..._

"...and then she said something about me losin' somebody." Ranma shrugged, struggling to appear indifferent to the whole thing. "I dunno what she meant, but—"

Cologne interrupted his narrative. " 'She'?"

"Yeah. It was definitely a girl."

Soun threw up his arms, distraught. "If this is yet _another_ fiancee of Ranma's that I don't know about, then so help me, Saotome, I'll—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Daddy," Nabiki reassured him. "That was just a girl's voice from some silly dream Ranma had last night, that's all."

"Dream, yes. Silly, no." Cologne's tone was sharp. "These dreams are no laughing matter. It is through them that the Dynasty has attempted to make contact with you. They will try to reach you by exploiting the most intimate and personal details of your respective lives. And trust me, they _will_ know things about you that they cannot possibly know."

"And how is that?" demanded Soun.

Cologne shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Tendo. Perhaps all your lives they have watched you, or perhaps they have already conducted extensive background searches on you. I do not know."

Everyone automatically turned to look at Nabiki.

She held up her hands. "People, people, really!" she protested. "True, I may be a bit...unscrupulous in my business affairs, but I wouldn't sell out you guys to an all-powerful monarchy bent on possessing your souls now, would I?"

"Oh, this is just great," muttered Ranma. He swept his arm out dramatically. "Now my life's a regular soap opera on The Dynasty Channel. How can this possibly get any worse?"

"They can, son-in-law. You just wait." And with that, Cologne shifted her attention toward Mousse, who was looking very ill at ease. "Now, Mousse, try to recall this. Was it a male or a female voice that spoke to you in _your_ dream?"

Mousse tugged at his collar, feeling a bit nauseated. If he revealed that the voice had offered to strike a bargain with him with the stakes being Shampoo's heart, then Cologne would probably be less than pleased. Not to mention the fact that the object of his affections would deem him despicable for even contemplating such a thing.

"I—it was male," he croaked. "Definitely male."

"And what did he tell you?"

He hoped that she wouldn't see that he was starting to perspire profusely. "Err, ah...he tried to lure me in by making a deal with me, but I refused. Really, I did. Absolutely." He was babbling now, and it took nearly all his self-control to snap his mouth shut.

Strangely, Cologne didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, and she just nodded in her usual sage manner. "Ah, so it appears that they are intent on turning us against each other as well. Good. That means that we are making them uneasy—otherwise they would not have bothered attempting to 'communicate' with us, so to speak." She focused next on Shampoo, who was idly twirling patterns on the tabletop. "And what about you, Shampoo? What did he tell you?"

"He—he try to intimidate Shampoo, that all," she declared. "He say that he know about Chinese Amazons, and that Shampoo..." The Chinese girl trailed off, frowning a little as she remembered an especially peculiar remark. "...Shampoo remind him of someone."

"Is that so?" Cologne contemplated this bit of information. "How very...odd."

"What? What is?" Ranma glanced from her to Shampoo, practically brimming over with curiosity.

"What did he mean when he said Shampoo 'reminded' him of someone?" Mousse leaned forward, feeling the old protectiveness wash over him again. "Do _you_ know what that means?"

The Amazon elder shook her head in a rueful manner. "I have no idea. But let's ignore that for now. Shampoo, did he say anything else to you?"

"He...he tell Shampoo many hurtful things..." she admitted, sneaking a furtive look at the pigtailed youth.

Mousse's fists clenched and unclenched in barely suppressed anger, while Ranma ducked his head, aware of Shampoo's eyes on him. Ukyou's head swiveled from side to side, completely clueless. Ryouga swiped surreptitiously at his bandanna.

A solicitous expression registered on Cologne's shriveled features as she examined her great-granddaughter. "Hurtful things? What sort of hurtful things?"

Shampoo swallowed. "He...he tell me that..."

"That what, child?".

"He just...tell me things." The girl looked away for a second. When she turned back toward the old woman, her countenance was taut with resolve. "But Shampoo no worried. Shampoo know that what he say not true."

She didn't seem eager to reveal any more, and Cologne didn't press her. "Very well. Keep that in mind, Shampoo—they are all lies. Not one smidgen of truth in them." Satisfied with the girl's nod of agreement, she went on to question a tentative-looking Ryouga. "And you, young man?"

"Hold on a second," interrupted Genma. "Aren't you going to ask _me_ about this? I came into contact with the Yasakami water too, you know!"

"Did you have any odd dream last night?" Cologne asked him bluntly.

Genma scratched his bald pate. He'd had a nightmare about his wife Nodoka beating him into a grease spot again, but that sort of dream was coming back to him on a regular basis, so there was nothing really odd about it. "Well, ah...no, I suppose."

Cologne sniffed. "Then I assume that the Dynasty considered you too old to fit into their plans, then."

Soun let out a snort of laughter, but Genma was indignant. "_Huh_?"

The old crone waved dismissively in his direction, concentrating once more on Ryouga. "Well, young man? Do you want to tell us about what happened to you last night while you were sleeping?"

A sense of discomfort gnawed at Ryouga's stomach as he felt the weight of the group's stare. He'd been praying that Cologne would exempt him from her interrogation, but apparently there was no such luck. He began to twiddle his fingers, andAkari touched his shoulder encouragingly.

"Well? Spit it out, you jackass!" urged Ukyou.

"They probably gave pig-boy here an offer he couldn't refuse," Ranma couldn't resist gibing.

Ryouga's cheeks burned at this. "Shut up, Ranma," he snapped. Inside, though, his heart was jackhammering in his chest. No matter how much he would try to deny it, Ranma's statement had struck a little too close to home.

"Did someone speak to you, Ryouga?" Cologne peered up at him. "Was it a female or male voice?"

Ryouga squeezed his eyes shut. "Ahhh...female," he mumbled.

"And what did she tell you?"

He licked his lips. "I—I don't remember."

Oh, yes, he did. He remembered everything—the way she looked, the perfume of her hair, the way she moved, her hand under his shirt...

_Tell me what you want, and it will be yours._

"She...kinda threatened me, that's all," he went on. "And she said—"

_Ryouga Hibiki, you are mine._

Ryouga stood up abruptly, startling the group and nearly bowling Akari over in his haste. "Um...excuse me," he stammered, clearly flustered. "I—need to use the bathroom..."

Before anyone could stop him, he fled, leaving a roomful of people staring after him.

Finally Ukyou broke the stillness. "Hey, you moron, the bathroom's the _other _way!"

_How did I get here?_

Ryouga glared up at the front gates of the Tendo dojo, as if challenging them to answer his question.

Too close. He'd almost bumbled out of the dojo this time without really meaning to. If he did manage to blunder out into the great big world with this current state of affairs, there was no telling what would happen to him out there. Especially now, with an empire full of half-gods after his skin and with the promise of yet another and perhaps more devastating curse hanging over his head.

Leaning against a nearby tree, he tried to clear his jumbled head. Cologne's cross-examination had unnerved him, mainly because it had provoked a flood of memories that he would rather just forget.

Who _was_ that girl who'd spoken to him so sweetly in his dreams? And how come he'd been the only one among the four who'd seen her? Ranma had mentioned that she'd declared him as "hers", but even he hadn't confronted her face-to-face. _He_ hadn't been captivated by her, or felt the cool touch of her hand on his skin...

He felt sick. The very recollection made him feel lower than dirt. How could he have been so weak? How could he have allowed himself to forget about Akane, even for a moment?

_Oh, Akane...forgive me...it is true...I don't deserve you..._

"Hello? Are you there?"

Ryouga's eyes snapped open. Was that Akane's voice? He peeked around the tree. And sure enough, there she was, in the middle of the dojo's front yard, apparently engrossed in some sort of search.

For a moment, he debated whether he should let her know that he was there. He was about to turn away in dejection when her next words sent a chill into his heart.

"P-Chan? Where are you, P-Chan?"

"Hey, Akane."

Akane lifted her head at the familiar voice, and she beamed at him. "Why, hello, Ryouga."

The boy in front of her seemed to be bothered by something, a fact that was demonstrated by the manner in which he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. For the life of her, though, she could not figure out what he was so nervous about. So she waited, her eyes darting now and then toward the surrounding shrubbery.

After a minute or so he cleared his throat. "Ahh...I guess you're looking for your pet P-Chan, huh?" His voice came out a touch higher than he would have wanted.

"Yeah," she confirmed, running a hand through her blue-black hair. "Could you help me look for him?" She smiled up at him again. "Please, Ryouga? Pretty please?"

He swayed on his feet, teetering precariously to his right. Fortunately, he caught himself before he fell over. "Uhm, Akane...I—"

Akane surveyed him questioningly. "Yes, Ryouga?"

He grinned crookedly. "Uhmm...ahh...there's—there's something I need to tell you..."

There was a long silence. A bird twittered from somewhere above her.

"Yes?" she prompted him patiently.

His next words poured out of him in a stream. "AkaneIthinkyoushouldknowthatP-Chan's gone."

"Huh?" Akane was confused.

"Ehh...ah..." He seemed to be groping for words.

A pinprick of dread nicked at Akane's soul. "There's something you want to tell me about P-Chan, isn't there?"

Ryouga glanced at her, and on his face was an expression that almost resembled agony. It was so like him, she thought admiringly, in spite of herself. He was so sweet and considerate of her being that he always tried to break bad news to her in the gentlest way possible.

He tried again, and this time his words were intelligible. "A-Akane, I think you should know...P-Chan's gone."

Akane was quiet, but only for a heartbeat. Then she shook her head vehemently. "No, he isn't."

He tried again. "Akane..."

"He's right here, Ryouga." She met his eyes steadily, attempting to dispel his worry. "Here in the yard. I saw him here last night."

His reaction was entirely different from what she predicted. Several waves of emotion washed over his features—first disbelief, then shock, which was finally topped off by something that looked suspiciously like terror. His complexion was taking on an interesting green hue.

"Ryouga? Are you okay?" Akane queried, her countenance wrought with concern.

He opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. "Yeah," he croaked at last. "Err, wait—you said...you said you saw P-Chan out here—"

"—last night," Akane finished for him, unable to contain her excitement. "Yup. I called out to him, but I guess he didn't hear me and I couldn't go out, so I decided to come out here now to look for him."

"Last night," Ryouga squeaked.

"Yup."

"Not two days ago? A week ago?"

"Why, no."

"Are you _sure_ you saw him last night?"

Akane bobbed her head up and down. "I'm sure. I hope he's here—he seemed so lost and lonely..."

Ryouga clamped a hand on his forehead. "Oh, no," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

She studied him, a little disturbed now by his peculiar behavior. "Ryouga...you're scaring me..."

His head whipped up at that, and he tossed her a smile—a feeble, shaky smile. "Ahh...it's nothing, Akane," he replied, edging backwards toward a dojo door.

"Are you sure?" she insisted. She took one step toward him, and he almost jumped back a mile. She was beginning to suspect that there was more to this.

"Y-y-yeah! I'm positive! Really!" He started as his back bumped into the wall of the Tendo dojo. With a speed that easily rivaled Ranma's, he spun around and flung the door open, almost ripping it out of its hinges. "Well...um, good luck finding P-Chan, Akane...I—ah—gotta go...see ya...bye!"

"Ryouga..."

WHAM

Akane stood alone in the middle of the yard, her eyes fixed on the spot Ryouga had so tumultuously vacated. If she didn't know better, she speculated, she could've sworn that he was actually terrified of P-Chan. But then again, who could possibly be threatened by an adorable little black piglet?

She heaved a sigh and resumed her hunt for P-Chan. Maybe it was just her, but things seemed to be getting even stranger than usual around here.

_No...it can't be..._

Ryouga hunched over in the hallway of the Tendo dojo, his breath coming out of him in labored gasps. His encounter with Akane had left him even more nauseous than when he'd escaped Cologne's third degree.

So Akane had seen P-Chan last night. She'd certainly been obstinate enough about that. But that was impossible—_he_ was P-Chan.

And P-Chan was no more.

Ryouga Hibiki was cured. Cologne had acquiesced that the cave _did _relieve people of their respective curses—even ones that turned a human into a piglet at the merest touch of cold water. He and Mousse had landed in the Koi pond and they hadn't transformed.

He had to be cured. He _was_ cured.

Wasn't he?

A new thought nagged at him. Suppose this "cure" of Yasakami was purely temporary, like that mail-order waterproof soap from Jusenkyo? And what if last night that dream of his had somehow affected him in some way that caused him to change into his P-Chan persona and sleepwalk right into the dojo's front yard for everyone—well, maybe just Akane—to see? For some inexplicable reason, he was fairly certain that the dreams had a part to play in the incident that occurred that morning. Or maybe he was just blowing things out of proportion. After all, he _did_ have this somewhat annoying tendency to overreact.

He tilted his head back against the wall, his jaw hardening with resolve. Fine. He was going to find out if he really was cured. But first, he had to discover some sort of foolproof method he could utilize in order to determine the status of his curse.

_What to do...what to do...ahah!_

He grasped the knob of the door nearest to him—the door to the bathroom of the Tendo dojo. As was his habit, he checked the front for the "Do Not Disturb" sign, and was gratified to see that it wasn't there.

_A good long soak in some cold water is what I need,_ he thought, twisting the knob. _If it's anything like the Jusenkyo waterproof soap, then it'll wash off after a while..._

And if it didn't, then he was going to stay in that tub as long as it took.

Satisfied by this rather impractical solution, Ryouga walked through the doorway, hearing an audible click as the bolt slid into the latch.

Downstairs, the conversation raged on.

"Great-grandmother, what you mean when you say 'symptoms' of curse?"

"Ah, yes, the first 'symptoms'—the signs that alert one to the fact that the Curse of Yasakami is, indeed, upon them. From what I have gathered so far from the Chinese Amazon elders before I left, granddaughter, is that the Yasakami curse manifests itself in a few distinct ways."

"Which are?"

"Patience, Mousse. As I was saying, there are several warning signs that indicate that the beginnings of the Yasakami Curse. One early symptom you have already experienced—the dreams you have just had—a sure sign that the Yasakami water you immersed yourselves in has successfully established a bond of sorts with the Dynasty. But do not worry, for this is but an irrelevant side effect from the cave water. The bond should fade shortly if you are not under the curse..."

SCHWEP

His yellow shirt slapped against the tile floor.

SCHWEP

His pants followed.

SCHWEPSCHWEPSCHWEP

He peeled his clothes off layer after layer, discarding them recklessly onto the floor, initiating his movements with all the passion of an automaton. When he was done he nudged the pile into a corner with his toes. Rather carelessly, he grabbed the solitary saffron-colored towel hanging from the rack just a few feet away from the tub. It was a rather small towel, but he shrugged the fact aside and began to knot it firmly around his waist.

_I must find out if I still have the Jusenkyo curse once and for all,_ he thought stubbornly, vaguely noting that the towel barely extended past his thighs._ This is but an inconvenience..._

So engrossed was he in his task that he failed to see the clouds of steam that emitted from the direction of the tub, which lay nearly concealed behind the bath curtain.

He didn't notice when faint splashes of water issued from the tub as someone shifted inside it.

He didn't notice when the curtain was suddenly drawn back.

And he certainly didn't notice the figure that stepped out.

Finally he glanced up. And blinked. And blinked again.

It was Ranma.

Or, to be more accurate, it was girl-type Ranma.

She was standing in front of the still-filled tub, gazing at him with huge azure eyes, her glossy red hair sleek and dripping from her bath.

And she wasn't wearing anything.

"Now answer me straight this time, old woman...how can we tell if we, indeed, have the Curse of Yasakami upon us?"

"There is only one ways of knowing for certain, Saotome. Only one way."

"Annnndd what's that?" came the wary reply.

"Suffice it to say, son-in-law, that you will know should it ever occur..."

The heat that collected somewhere in Ryouga's nose—his body's natural response after witnessing too much exposed female flesh—was immediately extinguished as he remembered just who he was gaping at. After all, he'd seen Onna-Ranma naked lots of times. Toss in the fact that this girl was actually a _male_, and his nosebleed was banished to the farthest corners of his nasal passages.

After his initial shock had melted away, he walked over, crossing the space between them in two purposeful strides. Onna-Ranma raised her head to look at him, her petite, feminine form suddenly dwarfed by his tall, virile one.

"It didn't work, did it?" Ryouga rasped. His voice was low, pained.

Onna-Ranma continued to stare up at him.

"I knew it," he went on. "I knew that it was too good to be true..."

She still stared.

"...what a fool I was...I actually dared to believe that there was a cure for my affliction," Ryouga declared, not even pausing for breath. "I'm not cured, am I? And neither are you. None of us are. That's why Akane saw P-Chan last night. That was me—I must've been drenched by cold water, and I was probably sleepwalking last night..."

She stared.

"...and that's why _you're_ here...the cave water didn't cure us at all, did it?" Ryouga reached out and gripped her small slippery wrist in his hand, his eyes shining in anguish. "The Cave of Yasakami was a delusion—it never took the Jusenkyo curse away from us, did it?"

She stared.

Ryouga ceased his rambling, a bit puzzled by her state of speechlessness. "Hey. Hey, Ranma." He gave her arm a little shake. "What's the matter? Cat get your tongue or somethi—"

He trailed off as he saw her stare travel down his body, then up again, in a fashion that was purposeful as it was unsettling. Her blatant appraisal was enough to induce inside him a surge of acute self-consciousness as he stood there in front of her clad in nothing but a miniscule yellow towel.

Warning bells were going off on his head as he let his own gaze land on the brimming tub. That was then he noticed, for the first time, that the filmy water inside was giving forth little puffs of steam, and the mist was warm against his bare skin.

Slowly, slowly, he turned his head back toward the naked girl in front of him, his hand still enclosed over her wrist. His fears were confirmed a second later as the girl reared back her head, scrunched up her face, and opened her mouth.

"Eeeeeeeeeekkk! _Pervert_!"

Everyone was already halfway up the stairs even before the blood-curdling scream had a chance to ring out of their ears.

Getting up to the second floor had been, to say the least, a difficult task. In their hurry to investigate the source of the scream, they'd somehow managed to get stuck in the middle of the stairway in one huge squirming mass. It was only after some well-placed elbows and trampling of limbs that they untangled themselves and resumed the stampede up to the second floor.

A succession of thumps alerted them to the bathroom, where they discovered to their chagrin that the door was closed and bolted. Finally Ranma—despite Soun's tearful protests—knocked it down with an extra-powerful roundhouse kick, and the panicked assemblage poured into the steam-filled room.

The sight that confronted them next hit them with all the force of a bullet train.

Ryouga was sitting in the tub, naked, his lower half submerged in soapy water. Straddling him was someone who bore more than a passing resemblance to Ranma's female form—except she was completely separate from him, wrapped in nothing but a tiny yellow towel, and had her hands around Ryouga's neck, trying her best to strangle him.

_End of Chapter Ten_


	12. Chapter 11: Confessions of an Oracle

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Eleven: Confessions of an Oracle

"O cord of life!  
Threading through the jewel of my soul,  
If you break, break now:  
My strength will go if this continues,  
Unable to bear such fearful strain."

—Princess Shokushi, "Hidden Love"

"Are you all right, Ryouga-sama?" Akari asked him, concerned.

Ryouga gingerly laid a hand on his still-tender throat. "Yeah, I'm fine." He scowled. "No thanks to a certain crazy redhead."

The girl across from him mirrored his glare. She'd toweled herself off and was decked out in one of Akane's old white tank tops and a worn pair of cutoff denim shorts. At present, she was sitting in a rather tomboyish fashion, her arms tucked in between her crossed legs.

It had been a virtual madhouse when Ranma and the others had discovered her trying to throttle Ryouga in the bathtub, dressed in the little yellow towel she'd swiped from him. Akari had screamed; Genma and Soun had skittered about blindly and ended up knocking their heads together; Akane, Ukyou, and Shampoo had promptly jammed their hands in front of their faces (though a couple of them couldn't resist peeking); Nabiki had snapped a couple of pictures with her ever-present camera (at this point, 'Onna-Ranma' had sought refuge from the gaggle of voyeurs by jumping into the tub with Ryouga—without taking her hands off his neck); Cologne had stared; Mousse's glasses had fogged up so badly that he'd needed a squeegee to scrape off the frosty film on the lenses. It was only Ranma and Kasumi who'd had the presence of mind to break up the scene.

It took several minutes for the two of them to pry 'Onna-Ranma' away from a blue-faced Ryouga.

It was now an hour after, and everyone seemed to have calmed down somewhat.

They were all now back in the main room. The atmosphere was one of apprehension and scarcely-disguised awe, most of it directed toward the red-haired stranger who sat in their midst. Genma and Soun continued to throw furtive glances at her out of the corners of their eyes, even while seemingly absorbed in their snacks of mochi. Shampoo, Ukyou, and Akane watched her with wary eyes, while in a corner Cologne was shaking her head as she contemplated this latest development. Mousse kept on appraising first the male Ranma on one side, and the female one on the other. Ranma, on the other hand, seemed to be observing his female form with something akin to fascinated disbelief. She in turn only had dagger-filled eyes for Ryouga, who glared back at her with equal hostility.

"So..." Akane cleared her throat. Be delicate about this, she thought. This girl was a complete stranger to them. Sure, she _looked_ like Ranma in girl-form, but she couldn't help but feel that there was something more to her. "So...uhm, how'd you get here?"

The girl broke her glaring match with Ryouga long enough to give Akane a slightly perplexed look. "I walked here, of course," she said matter-of-factly. Her voice was sweet and lilting—so much like Ranma's had been in his female form. It was the first time she'd spoken since she'd screamed that bone-chilling scream upstairs when Ryouga had found her, so to speak.

"You walked here?" cut in Ukyou, uncertainty edging into her tone.

'Onna-Ranma' fixed her with a blank stare. "Yeah. I sure didn't fly here all by my lonesome."

Akane's eyes narrowed. The sarcasm that was so reminiscent of Ranma was barely perceptible in the redhead's voice, but it was there. But then again, her diction and pronunciation were a little more refined than Ranma's usual lopsided articulation. Peculiar, that.

"You walked here...from where?" persisted the young okonomiyaki chef.

The redhead shrugged. "I dunno. I can't remember exactly where." At the other girl's skeptical expression, she retorted, "Hey, it was night. I couldn't see anything, okay? All I remember was that I was wet, cold, and hungry. Those aren't exactly things a girl likes feeling, so I split. Big deal."

At this point, Kasumi wandered over and wordlessly handed her a piece of mochi. Without preamble, the other girl grabbed it and began to scarf it down. "Hey, thanks, Kasumi," she mumbled between mouthfuls.

The others exchanged glances at this, and Soun couldn't resist voicing what was on everyone's minds.

"You know..." he croaked. He lowered his own piece of mochi and wiped his mouth. "You know who Kasumi is?"

The girl didn't even glance at him. "She _is_ Kasumi, isn't she?" she shot back, still concentrating on her food. "You didn't think I forgot who she was, did you, Mr. Tendo?"

Akane watched as her father dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Ahhh...no," he stammered. "Not at all, I suppose."

"Still," interjected Genma, "I still don't understand why you came here, of all places..."

"Homing instinct," the girl replied in a perfunctory tone. Then she paused. "Let's just say that I knew that this was where I had to go. Like I said, instinct. Plain and simple." She gulped down the last of her mochi and licked her lips. "Mmm, this is good. Can I have another?"

Kasumi beamed at her. "Why, yes, of course." She passed her two more generous chunks of the bean-paste dessert.

'Onna-Ranma' dug in lustily, and Akane observed her intently. Here was another difference. It was common knowledge that Ranma usually ate his meals like a starving horse—no matter whether he was in his male or female form. This incarnation, however, consumed her food in such a way that managed to look ladylike despite the fact that she was obviously famished.

"Amazing," Genma murmured to Soun, just out of the stranger's earshot—but not quite out of Akane's. "Her physical similarities to Ranma are remarkable, but at the same time she doesn't seem to resemble him at all."

"Indeed, Saotome, indeed. It's as if she retains some of Ranma's memories, but at the same time she's a whole separate person."

Akane was brooding over this when Ryouga's acrid tone invaded her thoughts.

"And what're you staring at?" he demanded.

This was apparently directed toward the red-haired girl, who promptly rejoined with, "Me? What're _you_ staring at?"

"I wasn't staring at you!" Ryouga growled.

"Yes, you were!" she shot back.

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

Several pairs of eyes swiveled back and forth during this heated exchange, confused and clueless as to just what had sparked it, and totally at a loss as to how they should diffuse it.

"Was not, you _half-girl_!" shouted Ryouga. As soon as the insult left his mouth he realized that somehow he'd developed an insult-reflex, one specialized in Ranma-barbs.

A vein pulsed dangerously at the girl's temple, signaling to everyone that she had heard quite enough. "Was too—PIG-BOY!" she yelled.

Ryouga rocked back on his heels as if he'd been slapped.

The girl smirked a little, enjoying his expression. Priceless.

Their audience, however, seemed to overlook that little hint she'd so graciously dropped in their midst—except for Ranma and Akari, who looked just as confounded as Ryouga.

"Don't...call...me...that," snarled Ryouga through gritted teeth. His entire frame was taut with barely restrained fury.

His red-haired adversary flickered her gaze over him, still smirking. "Served you right," she retorted. There was a slam as she plunked her palms flat on the table and leaned over so that she could level her gaze with his. "You stared at me _first_."

Ryouga mimicked her action, slamming his own hands down on the table, drawing his face closer until his nose almost grazed hers. "What's your problem, anyway?"

"_You_ are." Her sapphire eyes sparkled fiercely.

"Good," he snapped, his emerald eyes just as malignant. "We're even, then."

There was a stupefied expression on Ukyou's face, while on the other side of the table Ranma remained mute, a small grimace twisting his mouth.

For the space of half a minute, there was a gelid silence.

Mousse coughed loudly, and they both oscillated their heads toward him. "Much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment," he said gravely, "I'm still in the dark as to where exactly you—" He gestured toward the girl. "—came from."

The two of them grudgingly settled back onto their seats.

Akane frowned. If anything, this little spat only strengthened her convictions. Ryouga's attitude toward the girl was nearly identical to the way he acted toward Ranma, which was nothing new. Normally, Ryouga was detached enough when it came to girls who were merely his acquaintances, but this girl, at least to him, was nothing more than a female Ranma-clone.

The girl, however, was another story. While Ranma maintained a relatively healthy rivalry with Ryouga, it was mostly harmless, with only a few instances where it ventured into ominous territory. The girl's hostile disposition toward the lost boy, on the other hand, seemed more deep-rooted than that. There appeared to be an underlying anger inside her—one that was directed toward Ryouga—that baffled Akane. Was it perhaps because she was still mad about what the bathroom incident? Akane wondered. It seemed nearly trivial now. Akane herself had experienced nearly the same situation with Ranma, and it didn't bother her now as much as she'd once thought.

Their red-haired visitor shared one last scowl with Ryouga before resuming her meal and shifting her attention toward the long-haired Chinese boy. "Fine. Ask away."

Mousse bent forward. "This...place you came from," he ventured. "Were you able to see, even a little, how it looked like?"

She polished off the first piece of mochi, then started on the second one. "I'm not sure, really. I toldja, it was night." She stuck her thumb briefly into her mouth, sucking away at the last of the crumbs. "Wait a sec—yeah, I remember these weird blue-green lights all over. And water. Definitely water. 'Fact, I climbed out of it."

"You climbed out of water?" echoed Mousse.

"Yup," she confirmed. "That's the first thing I remember. What happened before that's all a blur to me. I climbed out and scraped together some leaves for clothes 'cause it was freezing cold. I decided to drop by here for a bit and maybe steal a peaceful bath—or at least I hoped." Here she speared Ryouga yet another unfriendly look, one which he was only too eager to return.

Shampoo, who had been quiet up to now, spoke up eagerly. "That place you come from—could place be Cave of Yasakami?"

The redhead took a bite of mochi, twisted around to face the purple-haired Amazon, swallowed, and assumed a thoughtful look. "Maybe," she conceded, returning to her dessert. "Can't be sure. It musta been way up in those mountains near Nerima, though. It took us a hell of a time getting here."

Ranma nearly choked on his snack. " 'Us'?"

"Uh-huh." The girl nodded carelessly. "I had some companions. Actually, they're sitting outside watching me eat right now."

Without another word, they all swiveled around toward the ajar shoji doors. Outside on the patio, emerging into the group's line of sight, were the familiar forms of a giant panda, a plump white duck, a lavender-colored cat, and a little black piglet.

For about the second time that day, the contingent was struck speechless.

In the end, it was Shampoo who summed it all up in one word.

"Ai-yah," she said softly.

"Oh, how adorable!" Kasumi exclaimed.

She giggled as the Shampoo-cat hopped on its hind legs and clawed at the ball of yarn that she suspended above it. Behind them, Shampoo watched in awe, while Ukyou and Nabiki's eyes were fixed on the Genma-panda as it wolfed down green after green on its bowl.

"Incredible," Soun commented. He let out a chuckle. "He even eats like _you_, Saotome."

"Tendo, old friend, you are sadly mistaken," remarked Genma. With that, he went back to stuffing mochi into his mouth at a pace that matched the panda's.

Meanwhile, Mousse and his former alter ego—the duck—continued to regard each other in wonder, with the duck squatting on his knee and Mousse adjusting his glasses at regular intervals to make certain that his poor vision wasn't playing tricks again. The spell was shattered at last as Cologne poked experimentally at the duck's feathery rear, causing it to explode into a series of indignant quacks.

At the other side of the table, Ranma was still marveling at his the sight of his female counterpart sitting across from him, licking daintily at her fingers as she finished off her mochi.

And as for Akane...

"Ryouga!" Akane called out happily. "Over here! I want you to meet someone!"

The lost boy turned slightly dazed eyes toward her, his features frozen in a combination of fear and exhilaration. "Y-y-yes, Akane?"

Beside him, Akari pursed her lips in discontent.

The next thing Ryouga knew, he was nearly smacked in the face by the little squirming mass that Akane had lifted up for his inspection. "I don't think you two've been formally introduced," she explained. "Ryouga, meet P-Chan. P-Chan, this is Ryouga. And you've met Akari, right?"

"I believe so, yes," Akari replied politely, with a pointed glance at Ryouga.

Akane snuggled the piglet back to her chest, laughing delightedly. The animal let out a bwee, and she began to coo at it. "Mommy hasn't seen her pwecious widdle P-Chan in a long time now—where were you?" Then she stopped. "That's funny. I could've sworn you had a little yellow bow around your neck...you must've lost it, you poor thing..."

Ryouga sneaked a frantic glimpse over in Ranma's direction, but he seemed to be in the middle of an animated conversation with his female self.

"Oh, look at that! I think he likes you," squealed Akane.

The lost boy glanced down at the little black piglet that had mysteriously appeared on his lap. He stared, and it stared back at him, its tiny black eyes dancing with hidden mirth. It was quite the peculiar feeling to be looking at oneself, Ryouga thought. Now he knew how Ranma must have felt the moment he laid eyes on 'Onna-Ranma'.

"No, I—I think it's scared of me," Ryouga declared, quickly scooping up the piglet and handing it back to Akane. Come to think of it, Ryouga realized with some irony, _he_ was the one acting scared of it. "See, I don't really like pi—"

"Aaarrrgghh! No! I don't wanna touch it!"

The trio whipped around to the sound of Ranma screaming.

"Oh, come on, Ranma," Nabiki said reasonably. "It's just a little kitty-cat."

Akane rolled her eyes. "What a baby," she murmured as she got up and marched over toward Ranma.

"That right, Ranma," Shampoo was saying. "It no hurt you."

"That's what _you_ think! Aaahhhh! Get it away from me!"

"But she really seems to like you, Ranchan!" Ukyou protested.

"I don't care! I don't want it near me! Gaahh!"

To the onlookers' shock, it was 'Onna-Ranma' who came to her male counterpart's rescue. "Oh, for Pete's sake," she muttered, reaching over and gathering the confused-looking cat in her arms. "She just wants to be friends, Ranma."

Ranma clutched at his neck, his eyes goggling. "You—you don't have any phobia of cats?"

The red-haired girl scratched at the back of the animal's ears. "Of course," she said evenly. "I'm not you, remember?"

This caught Ranma, Ukyou, Nabiki, and Shampoo off-guard. Akane felt little, if any, surprise.

"O-of course not." Ranma rubbed the back of his neck, appropriately chastised. "I knew _that_."

"We'll have to get a name for you, sugar," Ukyou told her staunchly.

"Otherwise, dear, we'll keep referring to you as 'Ranma'," Nabiki informed her.

The girl frowned.

Akane tapped her chin reflectively. "Let's see...how's Megumi sound to you?"

The redhead considered a bit. "Megumi...hmmm. Where did you get that name?"

"Honestly?" The youngest Tendo daughter crinkled her brow. "I don't remember. It just popped into my head. Think I heard it on TV or something..."

"Megumi. You know, the pop singer?" Nabiki offered.

The girl wrinkled her nose. "Uhh...in that case, no thanks."

Shampoo bounced up and down enthusiastically, clapping her hands. "Shampoo know! Shampoo have lots of names!"

"Oh, no, you don't, sugar," stated Ukyou, her tone flat. She swiveled back toward the other girl, shaking her head. "Coming from someone named after a bath product, I don't think you'd even want to hear her suggestions—"

Shampoo huffed. "For Spatula-Girl's information," she declared haughtily, "Shampoo not Shampoo's real name. It come from translation of Shampoo's Chinese name, Xiam Pu. It only sound like Shampoo named after bath product, but Shampoo—"

"All right, all right, I get your point," grumbled Ukyou. "But still, I think you're gonna name her something totally dumb like 'Deodorant' or 'Hairspray'..."

"What wrong with Deodorant and Hairspray?" Shampoo demanded. "They two great Chinese Amazon warriors! They kill—"

"—everyone and everything," Ukyou finished, sarcastically twirling her index finger in the air. "I know, I know. Big whoop. Ai-yah and all that."

Shampoo was positively riled up now. "That it! You make fun of Shampoo and great Chinese Amazon tribe! We fight now, yes? Shampoo want to beat up Girl Who Looks Like Boy!"

"What did you call me?" The young okonomiyaki chef leaped to her feet.

"You Girl Who Looks Like Boy! You no have Ranma, so you go with Boys Who Look Like Girls!"

"Hey! Now that was a low blow there, sugar!" yelled Ukyou. "And for your information, I do not 'go' with Konatsu _or_ Tsubasa! They're just not right...in the head!"

"Ai-yah! So that explain you!"

"Why, you Chinese bimbo—!"

Nabiki sighed as the two girls commenced a round of swiping and ducking. "And to think, all this over a name. Oh, well. At least things are back to some kind of normal around here."

"We_ still_ haven't found you a name," Akane remarked to the red-haired girl.

"That's okay." She shrugged, stroking Neko-Shampoo's velvety pink fur. "It's no big deal, really. I'll just have to stick with being 'the red-haired girl' or 'the redhead'. But I swear, if _any_ of you start calling me 'pig-tailed goddess'—"

Ranma snapped his fingers, being careful not to get too close to the loudly purring cat in his female counterpart's arms. "Hey, I got it!" he exclaimed. "What 'bout 'Ranko'?"

The girl graced him with a soft half-smile, complete with one elegant raised eyebrow. "Not being original there, are you, Ranma?"

He reddened guiltily. "Well..." he faltered. "I was just thinkin', you know—it'd be easier for you if you went by 'Ranko' 'cause then you could be like an honorary Tendo and—"

" 'Ranko', huh?" The redhead interrupted his rambling and tipped her head to the side, a pensive expression on her delicate features. "Well, it's not the worst name I've heard. Better than Deodorant or Hairspray, I guess." She flashed Ranma and Akane a radiant grin. "Okay. Until I decide that I want to be named for some idol singer or voice actress or something, for better or for worse, it's Ranko. Nice to meet you."

Akane giggled a little. "Akane Tendo. Hi."

"Ranma Saotome. Nice to meet you, too." Ranma couldn't help smiling back at her. It was certainly peculiar to be looking at his now fully separate female half across from him—something he was going to get accustomed to, he admitted to himself. Still, he _had_ coaxed a smile from her. That was a start, wasn't it?

Behind him, Ukyou and Shampoo smashed chairs on each others' heads.

By this time Cologne had completed her abuse of the poor duck, and she, along with Ryouga, Akari, and Mousse, were now eavesdropping on the conversation from the other side of the room.

"Well, well, well." Cologne's voice was low. "Now that _is_ rather interesting. The existence of separate dual bodies—this I did not expect."

At this, Ryouga and Mousse oscillated to gape at her. Akari took it upon herself to rescue a boisterous Muu-Muu Chan—a nickname coined by Akane in the tradition of P-Chan—from the old woman's poking, pulling the frazzled animal into her lap.

Cologne went on, obviously unaffected. "Of course, no one—not even the elders of my tribe—has really seen the results of the Cave of Yasakami. But still, it all makes perfect sense now..."

"In what way?" ventured Mousse.

"It is simple, really. The Magatama, which, as I mentioned, is the curved jewel that formed the Cave of Yasakami, symbolizes the individuality of opposites. Thus it is only sensible that the cave purges curses by _separating_ the afflictions from the victims."

"Oh, I see. So that's why Ryouga-sama and P-Chan are now in their own individual bodies," Akari mused, absently smoothing down the duck's mussed feathers. "The cave got rid of the dual-body curse by separating the original forms from the secondary ones while keeping the latter intact, right?"

Ryouga shifted in his sitting position, and was fairly surprised to see that Neko-Shampoo had taken up residence on the spot behind him, having vacated the red-haired girl's arms.

"Precisely," agreed Cologne. "It would be fairly easy for the cave to relieve one of a handicap, or bad luck, or a miserable fate. But relieving one of a whole different body is another thing entirely."

"Is that so," mumbled Ryouga, who was peering clandestinely over at the piglet Akane was cuddling. Despite his best efforts to stifle it, he was appalled to feel a pinprick of envy toward his former alter ego.

"Young man, that curse of yours came to you when you fell into a pool where a piglet had drowned many years ago," Cologne reminded him. "Think about it. Whenever you transformed into 'P-Chan', you assumed the body of another living thing with its own traits and characteristics, and so forth. And now that cave has relieved you completely of that form, and now you exist separately. That's certainly something to contemplate, isn't it?"

Mousse thought this over, then nodded in the direction of the red-haired stranger. "Does that have anything to do with the fact that the 'female Ranma' is so different from Ranma himself?"

Cologne coiled her sleeves round her staff. "Perhaps, Mousse," she responded, looking off toward the crowd on the other side of the room. "Perhaps."

Ryouga shook his head. As far as he was concerned, the world didn't need another Ranma.

"So...Ranko." Ranma brushed his fingers through his hair, more confident now that his female counterpart had sent the cat on its merry way. "There anythin' more you know 'bout me that I need to know?"

The red-haired girl only turned up the wattage on her smile a notch higher. "Oh, a lot of things," she said, toying absently with her pigtail. There was an impish glitter in her teal-blue eyes. "Like, say...that secret you've been hiding from Akane...?"

Akane's head perked up immediately. "What secret?" she asked, properly intrigued.

Ranma lunged quickly into their midst. "Ahhh...nothin' important, Akane...really." His countenance was going through an interesting spectrum of reds.

His fiancée leveled him a sideways glimpse, and was pleased to see the uncharacteristic bashfulness in his demeanor. "Why, Ranma..._you've_ been keeping secrets from me?"

"Ahhh, no...no, not at all, Akane...heheheh..." The pig-tailed martial artist chuckled feebly. Then he twisted his head around to give a mock glare at the other girl. "That's what I get for askin' dumb questions," he griped good-naturedly at her.

Ranko lifted her shoulders. "Hey, you asked me, buddy. I delivered."

"Oh, yeah." Ranma observed her carefully, scratching the back of his neck. "And boy, did you deliver. Big time."

Akane, for her part, couldn't stop grinning. A secret that Ranma was hiding from her? Interesting...

"We'll have to talk later," she told Ranko, giving her a mischievous wink.

Her fiancé coughed awkwardly. "Uhm, I don't think there's any need for that. Lissen to me, Ranko. Don't talk to Akane. She'll just bore ya to death or else feed you that stuff she calls foo—_ack_"

Akane removed her elbow from Ranma's ribcage. "Pay no attention to him," she informed the other girl. "He's just scared that I'll find out his secret."

Ranko grinned as Ranma made a noise that was a cross between a snort and a sneeze. "Ahem. Don't mind her, Ranko," he told her, ostentatiously feigning nonchalance. "It ain't like I care if she does find out 'bout that dumb secret. And anyway, ya ain't interested in her life story anyway." He pointedly ignored the scowl Akane speared him with, instead inclining toward Ranko in a conspiratorial manner. "But I _do_ wanna know 'bout you."

She stared at him while Akane tried to overhear scraps of their conversation. "Me?"

"Yeah." Ranma grinned at her—that tooth-twinkling, we-have-a-secret grin of his that had never failed to net him points from Kodachi, Shampoo, and Ukyou. "I mean, what's the stuff you like? Stuff you don't like? I mean, I know that we've been sharin' the same body for a while and stuff, but..." He indicated her with his index finger, then pointed to his own face. "You're not me. An' I ain't you." A tinge of discomfort filtered into his blue eyes.

Ranko swung her pigtail over her shoulder. "And...?"

"I just...wanna know who you are, I guess." His grin returned, though reluctantly. "I mean, who you really are."

Her mouth curved in a coquettish manner. "Yeah, well—"

Whatever Ranko was going to say was rendered insignificant with the intrusion of a strangely familiar humming noise drifting in from the backyard of the Tendo dojo.

The sound seemed to be emitting from the transparent figure above the Koi pond.

As if propelled by the same underlying urgency, they all rose as one—Soun, Genma, Kasumi, Nabiki, Ranko, Ranma, Akane, Ukyou, Mousse, Shampoo, Ryouga, Cologne, even P-Chan, Neko-Shampoo, and Mousse-Duck—and filed through the shoji doors. One by one, they sprinted out into the back yard, approaching the ghostly intruder with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

It was a woman, at least in the vaguest sense of the word—a woman with blank eyes, silvery skin, and long blue-green hair that cascaded past her waist and dissolved into a shimmering mass just above the water of the pond.

She was floating, her hands clasped prayerfully together and robes flowing about her like a nimbus. An ethereal, threadlike aura streamed from her entire being, causing a good portion of the Nerima night sky to turn into an eerie green-blue color.

When she rose higher out of the pond, it was all they could do to keep from gasping in dismay.

Her lower body was nonexistent; in its place was a sinuous, serpentine _thing_ rippling with millions of what looked like green-tinted fingernails.

She had the tail of a dragon.

It was an observation the assemblage below did not particularly enjoy noting.

"Who are you?" roared the boy in front, he of the pigtail and the Chinese shirt. "Whaddaya want?"

The apparition's eyes alighted upon him, and he struggled to keep from drawing back in the face of that pallid, pupil-less gaze.

"I mean you no harm."

Her voice was a study of contradictions: soft yet resounding, calm yet tempestuous—qualities reminiscent of those disembodied whispers that had plagued the most recent dreams of the previously Jusenkyo-cursed. It was another observation the onlookers did not enjoy noting either.

"Oh, yeah?" challenged the longhaired youth in the white robes and enormous spectacles, patently nonplussed by her seeming quietude. "That's rather hard to believe, especially since you're obviously one of _them_." He indicated her dragon's tail with a flutter of his sleeves.

She did not take offense at the cynical reply. "I am on no one's side—not humankind's, not the Dynasty's. I cannot hold preference on either, nor can I interfere in either one's affairs. It is both my blessing and my curse as Tenkei."

"Tenkei..." mumbled the pretty girl with the pink-streaked hair, mentally translating the name while the boy in the patterned bandanna regarded her quizzically. "That's...'warning from heaven'..."

A ghost-smile tweaked her colorless mouth. "Fitting, is it not? I have been called that for so long that I have all but forgotten the meaning. Nevertheless, I do not go by any name, and yet I have always been referred to as Tenkei, the oracle of the Dynasty of the Dragon."

At this, the gathering below traded portentous looks, and the boy in red elected to speak up for all of them. "So...if you ain't here to harm us, then what _are_ you here for, anyway?"

"I am here to deliver a message."

"A message?" echoed the girl in the bob-cut, somewhat uneasily. "You mean, from the Dynasty?"

"In a manner of speaking." Tenkei fixed her vacant gaze on the speaker and bent toward her, as if detecting some abstruse singularity she had not seen before. "And you, child...you are..."

The shorthaired girl took an involuntary step back, clearly disconcerted by the phantom's attention. To her left, the boy with the bandanna tensed, ready to shield her if need be, but it was the boy with the pigtail who sprang in front of her, as though spurred on by some protective intuition.

"Whaddaya think you're doin', lady?" he snapped.

To his annoyance, she didn't appear to hear him; in fact, she fundamentally ignored his presence, instead concentrating on the girl behind him. Then she swept her scrutiny over the others as if contemplating them for the first time, finally coming to a stop as she rested her gaze upon the spatula-carrying girl at the far end.

"There. It has begun," she mumbled in bemusement, her tone one of someone who had just unearthed the answer to some crucial puzzle. Her next statement came out so low that those below had to strain their ears to hear her. "At last."

"Yo, lady—you talkin' to us or yourself?" piped up the boy with the pigtail, exasperation flickering across his countenance. "_What's_ begun?"

Tenkei swiveled her head, her gossamer hair cutting a frothy wake on the surface of the Koi pond. "This is far beyond coincidence now," she said, more to herself than him. "The pieces have begun to fall into place. Just as the Prophecy decreed."

"Huh? What 'Prophecy'? Will ya quit talkin' in riddles already?"

The diminutive old woman clipped the pigtailed boy's knee with the twisted end of her walking stick. "I assume, son-in-law, that she is referring to the prophecy I warned you about—the rebirth of the Shoryuu Dynasty."

"Yes," the apparition confirmed. "As it is, that time draws nearer as we speak. Thus the message I must bequeath to you is this: before this prediction will come to pass, there will be a sequence of occurrences, each of which will help pave the way for the Shoryuu reemergence. One of these signs is your discovery of the Cave of Yasakami, a place that has remained hidden for centuries, and the subsequent use of its water to cure the dual-body curses. In doing so, you have not only purged your alternate forms, but you have also put yourselves at risk for obtaining the Yasakami curse."

An aura of dread promptly settled on the assemblage, former Jusenkyoites and non-Jusenkyoites alike.

As if in anticipation of the plethora of questions swirling about in their minds, Tenkei elucidated. "If the Yasakami curse _does_ take root in any of you, then the Dynasty is one step closer to its repossession of humankind. With this curse in effect, a bond will be established between the victim and the Dynasty, entwining their destinies together regardless of whether either side approves or not."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" demanded the girl with the spatula strapped to her back.

The oracle examined her carefully, tilting her blue-green crown to the side in a supercilious fashion as she did so. "That means that if the curse manifests in a human, then the Dynasty has reason to fear him."

"Why's that?" pressed the girl.

The expression that the dragon-woman graced her with was strangely mild in nature. "Because, child, the Yasakami has identified that human as Chosen-Born."

"Chosen-_what_?" the boy in the bandanna exclaimed.

"Chosen-Born," echoed Tenkei, schooling her features back to their usual stoniness. "Destined to battle the Dynasty on behalf of all humankind."

Far in the back the two middle-aged men fell on their faces with a resounding crash, while a conglomeration of varying emotions paraded through the teens' countenances: shock, confusion, and most of all stark, overwhelming disbelief.

She did not blame them: mortals were so accustomed to viewing the world in their own petty, limited scopes that they had lost the ability to grasp the complexity of the greater scheme, the interweaving of all things, animate and inanimate, palpable and intangible.

And perhaps, speculated Tenkei, that was partly the reason humans, for all their talk of knowledge and sophistication, had been relegated to earth.

"I do not expect you to comprehend all this," she went on. "Not while you all are not fully aware of magnitude of your predicament, and not while you still do not understand the true power of the Dynasty. But make no mistake: we now stand on the verge of an epic war—a war that will surpass that first clash between human and god. It is a war that may result in a future similar to a past where mankind lay decaying underneath the Dynasty's suffocating heel. Some centuries ago, a handful of humans—ones with dual forms—were able to vanquish the Shoryuu half-gods, at least temporarily. Now, as the fruits of their labor start to unravel and the Dynasty prepares to reclaim their sovereignty, the only hope now for humankind is the Prophecy, which was made in the wake of their defeat and exile. This prediction dictates that, when the time is ripe, there will rise a new Chosen-Born, one with the power to put an end to the Dynasty—once and for all." The sudden stillness that had descended upon the attendance was broken by a series of splashing noises as the snakelike tail coiled and uncoiled within the pond. "And the Chosen-Born shall bear the curse of the Yasakami upon him."

A brief exodus ensued, which was broken by the girl in the pageboy haircut. "So...let me get this straight," she intoned calmly. "Let's just say that someone _does_ get the curse of Yasakami. How can we tell for sure if that's the person who's destined to take down the Dynasty?"

"You cannot," admitted the phantasm. "The Prophecy says all that needs to be known, and nothing more. But take heed: the curse of Yasakami is a two-edged sword. For each side it grants both advantages and disadvantages. By acquiring this curse, not only does the victim become a threat to the Dynasty just by having the potential to destroy it, but in the process he bargains his soul to them as well."

The pigtailed boy's eyes widened in sudden realization. "Just like what they did to the other Jusenkyo-cursed," he whispered. "They sucked out their souls, locked 'em in those damned tama-tebakos..."

He wasn't able to finish, not under the restraining glare the oracle lobbed at him. "Fortunately for anyone under the Yasakami curse," she continued brusquely, "their souls will not be taken away as abruptly. Rather, the soul is siphoned out slowly, over a course of many days, until the very essence of it is but a memory, and there is nothing left of that person but a cold empty shell. It is in that manner that his soul will belong to the Dynasty."

"Belong to the Dynasty?" the spectacled boy croaked.

"You mean..." the purple-haired girl began, horrified.

"I am afraid so." The response came out brutally straightforward. "Once the entire soul is leached out, the Dynasty lays claim to it. At any rate, the body cannot live without the soul, and the victim will die."

Discouraging as those words were, the pigtailed boy didn't seem to be particularly devastated; instead he clung tenaciously to whatever scrap of hope the phantasm could provide them. "And what about the cure?" he wanted to know. "I mean, for every curse there's gotta be a cure...uh, there _is_ a cure for this, right? Right?"

For some reason, the apparition seemed faintly amused by the undercurrent of desperation in his question. "There is a cure."

A palpable sense of relief coursed through the assemblage. The only exception to this was the boy in the bandanna, who eyed the ghostly form askance.

"What _is_ the cure?" he asked succinctly.

The phantom assayed him for a moment, her gaze one of vague condescending. "It is quite simple, really." She uncurled the fingers of her right hand, the movement sinuous and graceful. "You must retrieve the Yasakami-no-Magatama."

This revelation produced an incredulous snort from the old woman. "The Jewel of Yasakami? But that is ridiculous; in order to retrieve one of the three imperial treasures of Japan, one must go—"

"—to Takamagahara, yes," the woman finished for her. "Only in Heaven will you find the true jewel—and the Shoryuu Dynasty."

A smattering of distressed murmurs followed her pronouncement, and the oracle lifted a pale hand to silence her distraught audience.

"However, there is still a possibility that none of you will acquire the curse. Although the alternate forms have already been fully separated, that is simply a side effect of the water, not the actual curse itself. If the Yasakami curse fails to affect any one of you, then you are all free."

"So...if Yasakami curse not work on any of us, then Dynasty leave us alone, yes?" ventured the purple-haired girl.

"Yes. There is nothing further they will want with you, especially since they cannot take advantage of your cured states."

The girl hesitated, then plunged on with, "But...but how we know if we under curse or not?"

This time Tenkei's smile was full-fledged—pale crescent lips drawn tight across milky triangular teeth. The resulting facial cast was both bewitching and disturbing. "You know where the word 'Yasakami' comes from, do you not?"

"It's the name of that jewel, right?" stammered the rotund middle-aged man with the head kerchief and glasses. "The one you mentioned earlier..."

"That's right, Saotome!" blabbered the longhaired, mustachioed man beside him. "Like she said...the Yasakami-no-Magatama."

"Precisely." The oracle nodded in insouciant approval. "The Tailed Jewel of Yasakami. That is all you have to remember. That, and the fact that the temporary reprieve the Dynasty has afforded mankind is nearly at an end."

Ranma knitted his eyebrows together. "At an end...?" he repeated.

"In other words, upperworlder..." There was a twitch at the corner of her bloodless lips. "...your three thousand years are up. And when it is all over, it will be seen whether you can destroy the Shoryuu Dynasty...before it destroys _you_."

No sooner had the words escaped her mouth the end of her tail began to shimmer, then fade. That was when it occurred to the audience that the oracle had said all that she had been sent to say, and there would be no further elaboration.

"_Hold _it!"

Whether it was because of the sheer authority in those words or the fact that this particular voice had not spoken before, the oracle's attention was snared. The source turned out to be the redheaded girl with the pigtail, whose petite form had been concealed behind the boy with the bandanna. At the moment she was elbowing her way past him, effectively planting herself in front of the crowd.

"We're not through here yet," she gritted out. "Not while you're leaving us with more questions than answers. If one of us does get the curse, then how's he supposed to get to Takamagahara? It's not like there's a map around that can show us how to reach this 'Heaven', or whatever the hell you call it. And if we _do_ somehow by some miracle reach it, how are we supposed to take the jewel from the Dynasty? They're not gonna trade it to us for a ramen and okonomiyaki platter, that's for sure. And what's up with their obsession with taking souls? You gonna explain that or what? Just a hunch, lady, but I don't think you're telling us everything, and frankly I'm starting to wonder just how much you know about all this."

Her speech was rattled off in rapid-fire mode, and as she stopped to take a breath, the oracle assessed her. With her chin raised high, her eyes sparkling in proud defiance, her strawberry hair almost black in the blue-green luminescence, the little redhead made an impressive sight.

But instead of offering her some sort of riposte, Tenkei simply glided over toward the girl, positioning her near-transparent upper torso squarely in front of her.

For her part, the redhead didn't even as flinch as she felt the apparition's deathly cold breath upon her skin. Flanking her protectively was the pigtailed boy, his fists clenched and his frame taut: her would-be white knight.

Tenkei evoked another of her enigmatic little smiles. "How strange," she remarked to the girl, slowly and deliberately, all the while totally disregarding the pigtailed boy at her side. "I was just wondering the same thing about _you_."

And to the spectators' bewilderment, she stretched out a wispy finger and stroked the redhead's cheek. The girl barely smothered a gasp as she recoiled, but it simply skimmed past her face, instigating within her the unsettling sensation of icy butterfly wings beating against her skin.

A millisecond later the pigtailed boy was lunging forward, presumably to bat the offending hand away from the girl.

He wasn't fast enough.

There was a sharp crackling sound, like that of flames licking at the edge of an inferno, and before anyone could react, a dazzling explosion of blue-green filled their visions.

By the time the onlookers had finished blinking the glare spots out of their eyes, the back yard was dark once more, and there was no one hovering above the koi pond.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Ranko scrubbed at her cheek, wincing as she recalled the chill of the woman's touch.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Ranma asked again, and Ranko heaved a patient sigh, which was echoed by Akane, who was sitting across from her.

He had been peppering her with the same query over and over ever since the group had retreated back indoors. For the moment at least, a period of relative tranquility had fallen over them as they sat in the main room mulling over the significance of the Shoryuu oracle's ambiguous missives.

Genma's panda counterpart was visible through the partially opened doors, lounging outside near the Koi pond with Neko-Shampoo curled up on his furry rump. Muu-Muu Chan was perched on the fence, his white feathery head tilted to the side as he watched the sleeping cat. Soun and Genma sat near the porch, for once forsaking their customary round of Shogi—not that it was any big mystery; with the weight of Tenkei's words looming over their minds, there was no way they could concentrate on the game. Nabiki stood off to the side, elbow propped up on the phone console, sipping a glass of water. Cologne had isolated herself in one corner of the room, eyes closed as she mulled over this newest transpiration of events. Kasumi was in the kitchen tidying up, and Akari was out in the front hall using the phone to check on her grandfather and Katsunishiki. Shampoo, Mousse, Ukyou, and Ryouga were gathered in the middle, forming a semi-ring around Ranma, Ranko, and Akane, who cradled P-Chan in her lap. The entire room was unnaturally silent, almost serene.

Subconsciously they all knew that the serenity was an illusion.

It was also a serenity that was screaming for a disruption, and Ranko was prepared to provide one if Ranma didn't stop badgering her with his incessant demands on her condition. Still, she couldn't blame him for being worried. After all, the disinterested, almost dispassionate manner in which the so-called oracle had bequeathed the message to them had left a rather adverse impression on Ranko as well.

"I'm fine, Ranma." She permitted herself a small smile, attempting to placate him. "Her hand went right through my face. Like a ghost. I don't think she poisoned me or anything."

"Uh-huh." The pigtailed youth studied the girl beside him. His opinion of Tenkei wasn't any more favorable than that of the others', but what he could not shake off was the feeling that, as maddeningly cryptic and evasive as the dragon-woman had been in her narration, the warnings she had dispersed to them were not to be taken lightly. Simply brushing them off would be a rash—not to mention implicitly deadly—decision. "She sure seemed fixated on you for some reason, though," he persisted.

The girl lifted her slim shoulders in a simulation of indifference. "Maybe she was just trying to unnerve me or something, you know, for mouthing off to her and all."

He was not entirely convinced. "But she—"

"Really, Ranma." Akane shook her head, a tad annoyed at his obstinate and seemingly pointless interrogation of the other girl. "Leave her alone already. She just happened to be the nearest one to Tenkei, and I'm sure she would've done the same thing to any of us if we were in her place."

Ranma abandoned his intent scrutiny of the pigtailed girl, instead focusing his gray-blue gaze on her. "She was kinda surprised by you, too," he murmured slowly, as if the notion had just crossed his brain.

"Huh?"

"Are you saying you didn't notice the way she treated you, little sister?" Nabiki queried round the rim of her glass.

Akane gaped at her, then Ranma. She remembered the oracle being inexplicably focusing on her, sure, but she didn't think of it as anything relevant. Instead, all she could recall was Ranma jumping between her and Tenkei, an almost—dare she think it—_possessive_ gesture...

"Well..." she hedged.

"Yes, that oracle did seem to be rather affected, didn't she?" said Soun, stroking his moustache in rumination. "Hunh...I wonder why she seemed so taken aback by my little girl."

As usual, Ranma showed no qualms about jamming the axiomatic foot into his mouth. "Heh...maybe she just got all nauseated from her sheer lack of cuteness—"

The mallet manifested itself out of Hammerspace and administered its brand of justice upon its usual pigtailed victim.

WHAM

"Care to repeat that, Ranma?" growled Akane, her manner one of false calm. From the confines of her lap, P-Chan bukeed, garroting her erring fiancé with its most resentful glare.

Ranko tilted to the side to inspect the quivering, pummeled form of her male counterpart, a kind of amused sympathy tingeing her features. "You're never going to learn, are you, Ranma-sama?" she teased, ruffling his mashed hair.

Ranma's eyelids emitted a "piku-puku" sound as he gawked at her, while around them the inevitable storm of protestations rose up.

"Crazy violent girl! You no hit Shampoo's airen like that!"

"Saotome, how dare you make Shampoo angry!"

"You had better apologize to my little girl right now, Ranma!"

"How could you address your own fiancée like that? I thought I raised you better than that, boy!"

"Ranchan! Are you all right, Ranchan? Ohmigosh, I think she left a dent in his skull this time!"

"A dent in his _skull_? What're you talking about? He's fine! He always looks like that when I hit him! C'mon, Ranma, tell 'em!"

"Urk...no way...now I'm seein' _six_ fiancées..."

Ryouga watched the fracas unfolding before him, for once not feeling obligated to join in despite the fact that Ranma had insulted Akane yet again in his presence—normally a major incentive for the lost boy to inflict some punishment upon his rival, usually in the form of physical pain.

Days spent in solitary travel had sharpened Ryouga's intuition, rendering him quite capable of pinpointing otherwise mundane details with a keenness that would no doubt have surprised his Neriman acquaintances. It was probably because of this that he found his brain relentlessly replaying snippets from the earlier conversation between Ranma and Akane, and in doing so, he found his gaze straying toward his beloved.

_Akane...what could that dragon-woman have seen when she looked at you?_

He leaned back, inspecting her as she disputed with her baka of a fiancé. For once, Ranma hadn't been exaggerating about Tenkei's behavior; Ryouga himself had been standing close enough to Akane to witness the barely camouflaged curiosity blooming on the oracle's translucent features when she'd beheld the shorthaired girl. There must have been something in the youngest Tendo sister that had intrigued Tenkei so—something other than her beauty, or her kindness, or her...

Then again, that hadn't been admiration on the oracle's face. It hadn't been rapture either, for that matter, or licentiousness. Her look hadn't been one of propriety, or even of scant surprise. No, Tenkei's interest had been more complex—and more inscrutable—than that.

It had been one of a young child struggling to decipher an unfamiliar character in the katakana. Or a puzzle dilettante poring over an enigma. Or a mother rediscovering a favorite daughter.

Which, Ryouga concluded in exasperation, didn't make any sense. At all.

Tenkei's interest should have been centered on the five former Jusenkyoites—him, Ranma, Shampoo, Mousse, and Genma—since they were now potential carriers of the dreaded Yasakami curse. And if that were so, she should have deemed the others beneath her attention. Instead, the dragon woman had barely spared the five of them a cursory glance, fixating solely on someone who hadn't previously possessed a dual body and hadn't even touched the Yasakami water.

_No, not solely..._

Ryouga's mind did a mental turnaround. Akane hadn't been the solitary recipient of the oracle's attention; there had been someone else besides her and the Ranma-clone, he was sure of it...

He raised his head and peered at the girl to his right.

_Tenkei seemed fascinated by her, too, didn't she?_

True, the oracle had been less subtle in her interest in Akane and the Ranma-clone, but she had taken notice of her as well. He'd seen the way Tenkei had swept her eyes over the crowd, pausing only as she caught sight of the girl loitering at the fringe of the multitude.

_The oracle was being tolerant toward her, smiling at her like she knew a secret, while being aloof toward the rest of us,_ he mused, continuing to watch her as she gesticulated and yelled something at Shampoo. He couldn't hear what she was saying—for him, the sounds of the entire altercation might as well have faded away into background static._ I wonder why no one else noticed that...?_

Dimly he noted that the girl had swiveled toward him, her mouth working up and down as she said something. Being in the reflective state that he was, he simply tuned it out.

_Then again, maybe I was imagining things. After all, why would Tenkei be interested in—_

"Ryouga, you jackass, I _said_ quit _staring_ at me!"

—_a really loud okonomiyaki chef._

At this point his nerve connections picked up the dull throbbing radiating out from somewhere near his cranium, and it was with a detached sort of surprise that he realized that there was a substantial coating of steel wrapped around his head.

_Check that: a really loud and violent okonomiyaki chef._

His train of thoughts promptly chugged off the metaphysical cliff, and he peeled Ukyou's oversized spatula off his scalp. "Whuh-what the hell was that about?"

She reclaimed her weapon, her expression a mix of irritation and discomfiture. "You tell me, sugar! What _I'd_ like to know is why you were staring at me with that...that...weird dark look on your face!"

He rubbed the sore spot, shooting a swift glance at the rest of the assemblage. Mousse had glomped onto a perturbed Soun, Shampoo was prying him off, Cologne was still meditating, Ranma was yelling at his father, and Akane and Nabiki were talking. No one appeared to be paying attention to him and Ukyou. "I was just thinking!" he retorted in response to the latter's words.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," the okonomiyaki chef remarked dryly, ignoring the scowl he pelted at her. "But that doesn't explain why you were ogling me like that!"

"I wasn't _ogling_ you!" A blush diffused through his complexion in spite of himself. "If you really want to know, I was wondering why that oracle woman seemed interested in you."

Ukyou looked at him as if he'd told her that Konatsu and Tsubasa had run away together to elope. "In me?"

Even as she said it the idea began to lose whatever merit it had initially embodied. "Didn't you see the way she was looking at you?"

The brown-haired girl surveyed him, her countenance deadpan. "She was looking at _all_ of us, sugar."

"But that was different! She looked at you the same way she looked at Akane and Ranma's girl-half. I saw her."

"So? Big deal—for all I know, maybe she just hasn't seen anyone carry around a battle-spatula before." She gave her wrist a pococurante flick. "You must've been imagining things. Besides, don't you think I would've noticed if she was looking at me funny?"

Her incredulity wasn't helping; already the last of his conviction was crumbling away. The matter seemed inconsequential to him all of a sudden. "I...guess," he conceded reluctantly.

"Well, there ya go." Ukyou nodded, sensible as ever. "Really, Ryouga, next time you decide to creep me out with your staring, try to at least have a good reason for it, all right, hon?"

Ryouga frowned. "What do you mean, creep you out with my staring?"

"In all honesty, Ryouga...well, your stare's kinda disturbing. Too intense, you know? Now if you had Ranchan's eyes, that'd be a whole different story. No offense, sugar."

He didn't see how he _shouldn't_ be taking offense at this—his eyes had been compared to his rival's, and unfavorably so, at that. Ryouga was by no means vain, but this little putdown, however partial it had been, nagged at him. "Is that so," he said flatly.

"Mm-hm." Ukyou's own pupils grew starry as she started her transition into one of her Ranma-induced daydreams. "Ranchan's got the most gorgeous eyes, don't you think?"

"Do you really expect me to answer that?" Ryouga mumbled, hoping that she'd pick up on the fact that he wanted to sulk instead of listen to her ramble on about Ranma Saotome's pretty eyes.

Ukyou summarily ignored him, gazing admiringly at the oblivious pigtailed youth at the other side of the room. "So clear and deep and blue...like an ocean I could drown in..." She giggled self-consciously. "Yeah, I know, that sounds incredibly corny, but it's true."

"Why exactly are you telling me this?" blustered the lost boy.

This brought her back to reality, and she patted his arm. "Oh, don't worry, hon. Not everyone can have nice eyes."

He was more irritated now than insulted. Frankly, he didn't see any use for such things, unless they could be used to pacify bears, wild boars, and cantankerous homeowners. "I don't _want_ nice eyes!"

"Why not? Wouldn't hurt. If you ask me, it'd be an improvement. Yours're so dark and serious. If you had eyes like Ranchan's, maybe Akane wouldn't mind looking at you more often."

Ryouga instantly stopped fuming. This possibility was something he had not considered. "A...Ak...y-you really think so?"

"You better believe it, buster. Who knows, maybe she'd put been off by your staring, like I was, and she was too polite to say so. Maybe that's why you haven't been able to score any points with her yet, ne?"

The very notion of himself causing Akane unpleasantness, however indirect, was like a dagger scraping his chest. "I...I never—maybe you're right...maybe if my eyes weren't so damned repulsive...maybe if they were blue like Ranma's instead of this accursed green—"

He didn't get to finish. Without warning, Ukyou clamped her palms on his cheeks and yanked him forward. His arms shot up, flapping wildly to keep himself from pitching face-first into her chest.

His exclamation of protest died on his tongue as she peered critically at him, her face scarely an inch from his.

"Ryouga," she breathed, "you are a genius."

"Whuh-what?"

She released him, but he remained canted toward her, too shocked to withdraw. "For a genius, you sure aren't very articulate, though," she added with a smirk. There was an expression of self-congratulatory delight shining on her visage, one Ryouga recognized easily.

Ukyou Kuonji had hatched yet another break-up-Ranma-and-Akane plot.

Ryouga re-marshaled his oral abilities. "But I thought you already had a plan—"

"I did, but you just gave me an idea for the finishing touch!" She was practically bouncing on her seat. "Ryouga-hon, it's perfect! This's gonna be our best plan yet, you'll see!"

There was absolute certitude in her declaration, and her excitement proved contagious—so much so that he felt a new glint of hope for his eternally unrequited love. It was a sensation he hadn't permitted himself to feel ever since after the aborted wedding.

"Thanks to your brilliant input, not only are we gonna win the ones we love, but we actually get to practice!" bubbled Ukyou, hugging herself with barely contained delight.

His grin wavered, then froze as her words sunk in. "Wait a minute...what do you mean, prac—"

He trailed off as she cast him a warning glare. For the first time he awoke to the fact that the sounds of squabbling had subsided, and a collective gaze had locked onto him and Ukyou.

"So...wanna share with us what you and Ucchan're chattin' about, Mister P?" quipped Ranma, obviously relieved at the reprieve from the wrath of his rivals and fiancées.

Ryouga traded glances with Ukyou—hers carefully vacant, his confused—before he realized that he was still on his hands and knees in front of her, his gaze level with hers. He straightened up quickly, retreating back to his place and safely away from the young okonomiyaki chef. "Nothing," he sputtered. "It's nothing important." Inwardly he wondered how much they had heard.

Ranma held up his hands, a placating motion. "Yeesh. No need ta get all defensive, man. If you and Ucchan wanna whisper sweet nothings in each others' ears, then don't let me stop ya."

"That's not what we were _doing_!" Ryouga and Ukyou screamed in near-perfect unison.

"For two people who don't like each other much, you certainly like to chat by yourselves," remarked Mousse, surveying the two of them doubtfully.

Ukyou seemed totally appalled by the insinuation. "For your information, Ryouga was just telling me some silly idea of his about that oracle lady checking me out."

The lost boy winced at her phrasing. "I didn't say it like _that_—"

" 'Checking you out', huh?" echoed Nabiki, skimming the pad of her finger over the condensation decorating her glass. "And you took special notice of this, Ryouga?"

"No—it's not that!" He flushed uncontrollably. "She—I mean, Tenkei—was looking at Ukyou like—I don't know—like she was trying to figure out something about her..."

Shampoo slammed her fist into her palm, brightening. "Ai-yah! Shampoo know! Maybe oracle try figure out whether Spatula-Girl boy or girl!"

"Excuse me, but did I ask for your opinion?" snapped Ukyou. "And who're you to make guesses about what other people're thinking? I mean, you've got more air between your ears than the Goodyear blimp!"

"You one to talk about Goodyear blimp!" retorted Shampoo. "You no look in mirror lately, yes?"

"Why, you...!"

Ranma was still mulling over Ryouga's revelation. "Naw, I don't remember her lookin' at Ucchan. Maybe all that pigslop's makin' you hallucinate, Ryouga."

"Why the hell would I eat pigslop?" roared the lost boy, acutely conscious of Akane's proximity.

"Funny. I could've sworn that was your favorite dish, ne?"

"Ranmaaa—!"

Genma cleared his throat. "Not to distract you from your arguing, but am I the only one here who's worried about this whole Curse of Yasakami thing?"

That put a stop to the four-way squabble, at least for the time being, and an aura of solemnity re-settled itself upon the group as their minds returned to the one subject they had all been reluctant to breach.

Until now.

"Well," Mousee ventured timidly, "Tenkei did say that only the—what did she call it—"

"Chosen-Born," supplied Akane.

"Right. Whoever's destined to be the Chosen-Born gets the Yasakami curse. So if none of us turn out to be the Chosen-Born, then we won't have to worry about getting the curse, right?"

"That's a big 'if', Duck-Boy," Ranma pointed out, ever the agnostic.

The Chinese Amazon youth tossed him an irate glimpse. "Look, I'm just trying to be optimistic here! We could be worrying over nothing! The only reason Tenkei showed up was because that Prophecy of hers said that the Chosen-Born would carry the Yasakami curse, and we just happened to fit the requirements!"

"So, in short, you're saying that the oracle's coming here was just because she was obligated to do so, regardless of whether we have the curse or not..." A hopeful, hysterical look stole over Genma's face. "Yes, yes, I like that theory! It makes sense...a lot of sense! Don't you all agree? Eh? Eh?"

Ranma rolled his eyes in disdain. "Pop, you only like that theory 'cause you're afraid of gettin' the curse!"

Soun mopped up the perspiration from his temple. "Still, it does have some credibility," he digressed. "Didn't Cologne say that you five had a fifty percent chance of the curse passing you by entirely?"

"That's right. Thus you also have a fifty percent chance of acquiring it as well."

So saying, the aforementioned Chinese Amazon matriarch hopped into the center of the circle, having roused herself from her cogitation in the corner.

"Great-grandmother?" queried Shampoo, as if knowing in advance what the old woman was about to say.

"Curses are strange things," theorized Cologne. "Most have instantaneous effects, like the Jusenkyo affliction. Bizarre as it may have been, it is a common one, and thus bound by laws, both in its nature and cure. The curse of Yasakami, I'm afraid, is much more complicated than that, simply because by getting it, you not only suffer its effects but also shoulder a fate you may not have the strength to face up to."

Akane bit her lip. "So you really believe what Tenkei told us? About the Chosen-Born and battling the Dynasty and all that?"

"I cannot think of any reason she would lie." The Elder leveled an austere gaze at her. "Can you?"

"N-no, but..." The shorthaired girl made a frustrated motion. "She was going on about how this Chosen-Born with the Yasakami curse was going to become this great defender of mankind! I mean, that's kind of...unbelievable, don't you think?"

"I have to agree with her there," asserted Nabiki, setting down her beverage. "That _is_ kind of stretching the borders of believability, even for you people."

Ukyou shrugged. "Okay, so it's a bit far-out. So maybe she was exaggerating. But I think she was telling the truth about the curse."

"From what Shampoo understand, dragon-woman say that whoever get curse is Chosen-Born," offered the Chinese Amazon girl. "If that true, then there only one who get curse..."

"...and that would leave four of us _without_ the curse!" finished Mousse, his tone one of awe.

It took a half-second for the implication to sink into their heads, and when it did the chattering immediately ceased.

Ranma piped up first. "So only one of us gets to be saddled with the Yasakami curse, eh?"

"Uh-huh," Ryouga confirmed in a monotone. "And that'd be the Chosen-Born."

"It's really a one in five chance," seconded Mousse, equally solemn.

"Is not bad odds," commented Shampoo, suddenly finding the toes of her shoes immensely interesting.

"If you're not the Chosen-Born, that is," clarified Genma.

"Yeah."

"I guess."

"Definitely."

"Shampoo live with that."

There was a pause as ominous looks were darted back and forth between the five candidates, as if each were expecting the other to have the words "Chosen-Born" tattooed over their faces in gaudy neon lights.

"Soooo...anyone wanna bet who it's gonna be?" Ranma chirped, his tone falsely blithe.

"Now _there's_ a good idea..."

"Nabiki!" Akane exclaimed.

"Fine, fine. No bets."

Shampoo cocked her head archly to one side. "Whoever Chosen-Born, must be great fighter if bring down Dynasty, yes?"

Mousse didn't like the path her observation appeared to be heading down. "Shampoo, surely you aren't implying that—"

The girl pinned him with a steadfast glare. "That Ranma is Chosen-Born? Yes, is what Shampoo imply."

Ranma goggled. "Wha—? You think _I'm_ gonna be the Chosen-Born?"

"It make lot of sense," contended Shampoo. "Airen best fighter, even beat Shampoo good. Airen strong enough to bring down Dynasty!"

There was a twinkle of approval in her Cologne's beady eyes as she considered her great-granddaughter's hypothesis. "You have to admit, son-in-law, what she's saying does have merit."

Akane ran her thumb nervously over P-Chan's left ear, causing it to twitch. "You guys seriously can't be thinking that—"

"What else _is_ there to think?" shrilled Soun. "Akane, you just can't dispute the sheer logic of it!"

"Indeed!" howled Genma. "Such an unforeseen development: imagine, my son, destined to defend all mankind from the Dynasty! Now where am I going to find someone to replace him as heir to the Saotome Anything-Goes Martial Arts—"

WHAM

His son removed his fist from his skull. "You're just glad 'cause that'd mean you ain't gonna get that damn curse! Look, I ain't even got it, and I sure ain't gonna be defendin' mankind from the Dynasty or whatever! That's ridiculous!"

"But Ranchan," argued Ukyou, "even if it _is_ kinda ridiculous, don't you think that maybe you oughta take it a little more seriously, especially if you might be the Chosen-Born?"

Ranma crossed his arms, affecting an aggravated expression. "Why's everyone so damned sure that it's gonna be me?"

Nabiki smirked knowingly. "Since when has everything _not_ centered around you?"

The pigtailed boy groped for any fault in her reasoning—and failed. He then turned appealingly toward Akane, who avoided his gaze. Disheartened, he scanned the rest of the assemblage before realizing that they had no answers for him either, and his shoulders slumped.

_But...but...why does it always have to be _me

Part of him had already resigned himself to the possibility. Commingled with his sense of resignation were consternation and anxiety, and perhaps even an inkling of fear.

But, if anything, Ranma Saotome was a born risk taker, and did not take kindly to sitting on the sidelines. Even as he recognized the danger and acknowledged the futility of defying a monarchy composed of half-gods, anticipation began to surge through his blood like wildfire.

Ryouga glanced over at him, cracking a mirthless smile. "Well, congratulations, Ranma—looks like you get to be the champion of humanity. Maybe you ought to get yourself a diamond tiara and a magical scepter to fight the Dynasty with, ne?"

"Ah, lay off, Pork-Butt!" barked Ranma, irked by the lost boy's casual treatment of his impending quandary. "You know, I think you're just jealous 'cause _you_ wanna be the Chosen-Born!"

"That Yasakami curse must already be mucking up your brain, Ranma," scoffed Ryouga. "You think _I_ want to be the Chosen-Born? I get some nutty curse on my head, become a death-target for ancient half-gods, and—oh, wouldn't you know it—I also get to have my soul sucked out in the process! Oh, yeah, Ranma, that sounds like something I could really get into!"

"No need to get sarcastic, you jackass." Ukyou frowned at him. "Ranchan was just asking you a question."

"Well, Ranma should've kept his big mouth shut instead of accusing Ryouga-kun of wanting the Yasakami curse," harumphed Akane.

Ranma scowled at her in displeasure._ Dumb tomboy—always defendin' him..._ He centered his attention on his rival, narrowing his eyes as he finally understood what the other boy was thinking. "Spit it out, Mister P. You don't think I'm the Chosen-Born, do ya?"

The bandanna-clad youth glowered at the matted straw of the tatami mat. "Maybe I don't," he said shortly.

Shampoo puckered her lips in petulance. "Stupid Pig-Boy! Airen right, you just jealous!"

"But...but Shampoo," protested Mousse, "maybe he has a point there; after all, it might not be Saotome—"

"Ai-yah!" She peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "You jealous also, Mousse?"

The longhaired boy floundered. "N-no! I—I..."

"I am _not_ jealous!" Ryouga bellowed in response to Shampoo's accusation. "I just think that we shouldn't be jumping to conclusions just because it suits us, that's all."

That was when Ranko, who had been quietly attentive for quite some time, decided to give her own unbiased opinion on the matter.

"That is _such_ bacon-crap."

Ryouga glanced at her as though acknowledging her presence for the first time. "Huh?"

The newcomer knotted her fingers through her crimson bangs and gave them a contemptuous flick. "You heard me," she sniffed, injecting an ample amount of derision into her voice. "I mean, how lame can an excuse get? Call me nuts, but I think you're covering something up."

The lost boy pursed his mouth, displaying a hint of fang. "You're nuts."

Ranma looked curiously back and forth between them, his pigtail whipping against the back of his neck. "Huh? Whaddaya mean, somethin' he's coverin' up? That true, Ryouga?"

"Of course not!" denied the lost boy, incensed at the insinuation. "I don't even know what she's talking about!"

"Oh, but I think you _do_, pig-boy."

The others watched apprehensively as Ranko hunched forward, bracing her hands on her folded thighs as she did so, almost as if she were preparing to spring into a physical battle. Had she a tail, it would be twitching back and forth.

"I have no idea what you're saying!" snarled Ryouga. "What the hell is the matter with you? Your pigtail too tight or something?"

If looks could kill, Ryouga thought, he would be dead a thousand times over—and then some.

"Listen," she spat, "you can deny it till your face turns green, but I'm onto you. I know you're hiding something, and I intend to find out what it is!"

He honestly didn't know what exactly she was rambling about, although he suspected that she was referring to the break-up-Ranma-and-Akane scheme he and Ukyou had been machinating just some minutes ago. Big deal. It wasn't like telling her _that_ would do anyone good.

Still, she had the audacity to make it sound like he was involved in some subterfuge with the Dynasty itself. Ryouga felt his temper escalate at that. Why in Heaven's name did this girl insist on aggravating him so?

"Don't hold your breath," he answered her coolly. "There's nothing to find out."

"That so? Well, I got three words to say to that." The redhead slapped on a wicked smile. "Oink, oink...oink."

In retrospect, Ryouga still wasn't sure whose Ranma-reflexes had been faster, his or Akane's. But in the end it didn't matter, because the next words that tumbled inexorably out of their mouths had the same fundamental gist.

"Ranma, you're going to _pay _for that!"

"Ranma, stop picking on Ryouga!"

Akane caught her blunder just after she had finished her sentence, but by then it was too late: she saw the distress on Ranko's face, an emotion that was there one second, and then gone. She was immediately contrite. "I mean...Ranko. For a second I forgot you were—sorry. It's kind of a routine thing," she offered sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it, Akane." Ranko's voice was breezy and noncommittal as she reverted back to her cross-legged sitting position. "Anyone could've made that mistake."

Though her smile was sincere, the animation had gone from her movements, her once-spirited eyes now stoic and passive. It was an something that Ranma did not miss, however, and he quickly scribbled a mental note to himself to discuss this with her later in private.

Ryouga managed to mumble out a similar apology; as far as he was concerned, however, this only strengthened his opinion of the Ranma-clone being one roll short of a sushi platter.

His mind was quickly jarred back to the business at hand, however, as Cologne rapped the bottom of her staff authoritatively against the floor.

"Enough of this prattle," she commanded, quite curtly. "I realize that this oracle has given you all cause to doubt yourselves and those around you, but there is nothing to be gained if we bicker amongst ourselves over the most frivolous matters."

"She's right," Genma announced. "For now we must focus on what to do once the Yasakami curse manifests in Ranma."

At that a shadow descended across Akane's countenance, and she averted her gaze. The motion was imperceptible to the others, but not to her father.

"Is there something on your mind, Akane?"

"No—well, sort of." She hesitated. "It's just a hunch...actually, it's a long shot. It's probably way off mark anyway..."

"Tell us, Akane-san," urged Ryouga.

The others watched her, awaiting her opinion on the subject, but before venturing one she cast a circumspect glance in Ranma's direction. He was facing away, arms folded in a display of classic Saotome apathy. But that was all it was—a display.

_He really does want to know what I think..._

"I was just thinking that maybe...well..." Akane expelled a breath. "...the Chosen-Born isn't Ranma. I think...it isn't among any of you at all."

There was a pause. Then Shampoo shook her head, the bells in her forelocks tinkling reproachfully.

"Ai-yah! That no surprise to Shampoo," she announced. "Violent-Girl no have any faith in Ranma."

Indignantly, Akane whirled on her. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"What she means, sugar, is that you never believed enough in Ranchan's abilities," elucidated Ukyou, her expression one of disapproval.

"W-wait a minute!" the other girl cut in. "That's not what I meant! I just said that I don't think Ranma's the one—"

"And why is that?" Genma wanted to know.

Akane lowered her gaze. "I—I don't know."

"That prove it!" declared Shampoo, jabbing her finger triumphantly at the youngest Tendo daughter. "You no think Ranma is good enough to be Chosen-Born!"

"That's not it! I'm not crazy about the idea, sure, but there're other reasons—"

"You mean you don't want Ranchan to be the one to fight the Dynasty?" interjected Ukyou.

"No—I mean, yes...no, I _don't_ want him to be the one to fight the Dynasty." An angry blush colored the bridge of her nose at her confession. "I mean, if we don't even have a clue about who the Chosen-Born's supposed to be, then we shouldn't be acting like we're going to send him to some far-off kingdom and never hear from him again—"

"You don't think I can do this, can you?"

There was a general turning of heads as Ranma spoke up. His eyes were peeled to the floor, his voice constricted and oddly quiet.

His fiancée appraised him, surprised at his interruption. "Ranma?"

"That's it, isn't it?" He lifted his head, and on his face was an unreadable look she had never seen him direct toward her before. "You really don't believe I can do this."

"Ranma, that's not what I—"

He didn't appear to hear her. "It's always the same thing, ain't it? Back when I was tryin' to learn the Hiryuu Shoten Ha, you were so sure I wasn't gonna do it. When I went off to fight the Musk Dynasty, you didn't think I was gonna come back. When I went to China and fought Saffron, you didn't think I could make it."

In all their verbal battles, Ranma's barbs had all been dealt out in the same manner: fast, flippant, with just a sprinkle of disdain thrown in for effect. But they were all products of reflex, and more than half the time it was obvious that he didn't even pay attention to the insults he tossed at her.

But there was no sign of those usual insults: this was no ordinary spat, and the others knew it. Which was why none of them attempted to play mediator, being too transfixed by the proceedings as it were.

Akane tried again. "I never—"

"Well, that _was_ what you were really thinkin', wasn't it?" The passiveness was melting away from his façade, and taking its place was a rapidly growing rage. He didn't know where it was coming from, or why it was even there in the first place, but right now he was too fatigued and stressed out to care. To top it all off, the slight throbbing in his forehead that had plagued him not long after the oracle's departure was growing progressively worse: it had blossomed into an all-out migrane. "It's always been that way, hasn't it? You always held me back, never believin' in me, never thinkin' that I could succeed, that I could win..."

"That's crazy!" she cried, trying to ignore the sound of her heart thumping hysterically in her ears. He'd never spoken to her like this before, and she didn't like it. P-Chan bweed plaintively on her lap, as if distressed by the entire argument. "Ranma, you know that's not true!"

"Yeah?" he sneered. The throbbing had become a concentrated spot of stabbing pain in the middle of his forehead, with each resounding throb sending quakes of agony through his skull and stirring up even more previously untouched vestiges of anger. "You know, I can't believe my pop engaged me to some dumb bullheaded chick..."

Ryouga could take it no longer. "Ranma, don't you _dare_ speak to Akane-san that wa—"

"Aw, shut yer piehole, Ryouga! Like I was sayin', I can't believe I got screwed over by being engaged to some bullheaded chick who doesn't even believe in me! Ya know, sometimes I wonder why I'm settlin' for this when I could engaged to someone who actually understands what it's like to be in my position, like—oh, I dunno—maybe a _real_ martial artist?"

In spite of herself, Akane felt the moisture well up behind her eyelids.

Damn him. Damn him for knowing which string to pull. For knowing which button to push. For knowing all her vulnerabilities, for knowing how to hurt her the most.

And damn her for caring in the first place...

Coming from anyone else, the declaration would have been a sufficient enough affront to the youngest Tendo daughter. But this—the mention of her adequate but still-less-than-stellar-abilities—had been delivered to her by no other than her fiancé: her uncouth, stubborn, egotistical, insanely skilled—but ultimately significant—fiancé.

That being the case, those words were like a cannonball smashing through the brick wall she'd built up around herself: something to protect her against whatever rain of barbs he sent her way, keep them from getting to her lest he think she was weak or vulnerable.

But now, with that protection shattered, there was nothing left for her to do but lash back—in the only way she knew how.

Akane got to her feet, carefully easing P-Chan off her lap and sending him skittering into a flabbergasted Ryouga's arms. Mustering as much dignity as she could, she addressed her fiancé, and was shocked at how calm she sounded.

"Well, Ranma...thank you for telling me that. If that's how you feel, then let's do something about it. Since you so obviously believe what you're saying, then I refuse to be married to someone who won't even let me explain my side. Let's call off our engagement. Right here. Right now. And to _hell_ with all our stupid obligations!"

The reactions were instantaneous: Soun and Genma reeled backwards as if they'd both been clocked right on their collective kissers by a roundhouse special. Cologne clutched at her staff and gaped. There was a circle of slackened jaws all around them; neither Shampoo nor Ukyou knew how to react; Ranko, Ryouga and Mousse were simply stunned into silence, and even Nabiki seemed taken aback.

For his part, Akane's outburst had appeared to have the strangest effect on Ranma: he blinked, over and over, as if her reaction had been the last thing he had expected.

"You're serious...you can't be serious..." The words came out a croak.

"Oh, yes I am. Is that what you want, Ranma?"

"I..." He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, uncannily resembling one of the koi outside in the backyard pond.

She wrapped her arms around herself, willing her voice to keep steady. "_Is_ it?"

"A-Akane..."

Ranma stopped, cringed, and tried to scramble to his feet.

He didn't make it. Instead his legs buckled underneath him, and he slumped forward in a boneless heap.

Instinctively Akane rushed forward. "_Ranma_?"

Shampoo and Ukyou immediately flanked their hapless fiancé, concern flooding across their faces. Cologne wasn't far behind.

"Airen!"

"Ranchan!"

"Son-in-law!"

"Oh, my—Ranma!"

Kasumi was standing in the entranceway to the kitchen, aghast. Akari emerged from behind her, hands clasped anxiously together.

"What's going on?" demanded Soun, shuffling over toward the teens.

"What's happened to him?" cried Genma, trying vainly to see through the gaggle of girls clustered around his ailing son.

Akane's mouth worked up and down, but no sound came forth. Somewhere in her peripheral vision, she could see Ranko scurrying over anxiously toward her male counterpart. Mousse and Ryouga had materialized on either side of her, the latter holding a distraught P-Chan in his arms with Akari clutching at his elbow.

Just then, Ranma came to life in her lap, emitting a groan as he cradled his head in his hands. "Argh..."

"Ranma?" Akane whispered. "Are you—"

"M-my forehead." Ranma let the two words out in a hiss. "Feels like...it's on fire..."

Akane swallowed hard, and, as if seized by a sudden impulse, ran her hand ever so tenderly across the shock of hair that fell across his brow. And then she felt something.

She parted his bangs, her heart in her throat.

There it was.

A tiny, perfect jewel, no bigger than her thumbnail and shaped like one half of a yin-yang, was nestled there in the middle of his forehead, glowing turquoise as it pulsed.

And with every pulse, Ranma's pain seemed to grow, and he tightened his grip on his head.

"Ranma." Akane tangled her fingers in his hair. "Oh, Ranma." And for some crazy, inexplicable reason, her eyes swam with unexpected tears.

Finally Cologne hopped back and oscillated on her stick, facing the dumbstruck assemblage.

"Well, now." Her words were draped with grave finality. "It appears that there is a Chosen-Born after all..."

_End of Chapter Eleven_

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Hmm...you know what, I just might get accustomed to adding these footnotes to the end of every chapter. Kind of like a way to elaborate on the _raison d'etre_ behind certain scenarios and characterizations, on the progress of the plot in general, and on things yet to come.

This was probably the most frustrating chapter to rewrite, mostly because I wasn't satisfied with the way the original Chapter Eleven unfolded (I'm referring to the one that suffered an untimely and sorely lamented death on my hard drive some months ago). In the year I abandoned this fic to concentrate on my "evolution" site, my writing style—if I may call it that—changed somewhat, and when I perused the previous "Dynasty" chapters, all I saw was a plethora of diction and grammar errors that badly needed correcting.

As such, it took more than three drafts before I created one that didn't strike me as overly bad. The original confrontation with Tenkei was a bit more contrived—a _deus ex machina_ in the making—and the dialogue had, for the lack of a better term, all the cheesiness of a B-grade movie.

I know, I know, there's quite a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but you guys are fortunate: this's actually the _shortened_ version. Yup, there was even more yakking in the original draft. So although it doesn't seem obvious, I cut out all the irrelevant conversations and left the more important ramblings. It's just a matter of deciding which.

Lastly, my apologies for this piece's tardiness; I didn't expect it to be this long. I've been working on this part in tandem with Chapter Twelve, which is about three-quarters done. Chapter Thirteen will probably wrap up the first book of "Dynasty", and Book Two will either be continued in its usual fanfic vein or be carried out in a risky (albeit ambitious) graphic-novel format. We'll see.

Well, that's it for Chapter Eleven (whew!). Now that I've gotten the pesky segments out of the way, the _real_ fun can begin... ;)

Ja ne,  
Sydney Kyle


	13. Chapter 12: The Unraveling

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Twelve: The Unraveling

"As fickle as the mountain gusts  
That on the moor I've met,  
'Twere best to think no more of thee,  
And let thee go. But yet  
I never can forget."

—Daini no Sammi, Kamakura Period

"_No_!"

Ranma Saotome woke up screaming.

The memories of the events of the past few days came back to him in a dizzying rush, and his hand flew to his forehead. But instead of brushing against the cool, smooth stone of the jewel, his fingers met warm skin.

He blinked and ran his hand over his brow again.

There was nothing there.

_A dream,_ he thought, leaning on his elbows against the floor. He tilted back his head and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his frenetic breathing. _The magatama, the Dragon Dynasty, the Chosen-Born...all of them, nothing but a dream..._

Thank the gods.

He opened his eyes.

And found himself staring up into a jagged stone ceiling.

_What the—_

He sat up quickly and glanced around.

From what he could tell, he was inside a subterranean chamber of some sort, perhaps a cave. Charcoal-colored slabs of rock with strange psychedelic highlights reflecting off their craggy surfaces surrounded him on all sides. The air was cold and dank, weighing down on his soul like an oppressive cloud. In spite of the fact that there seemed to be no source of illumination whatsoever inside the cave, the interior seemed to pulse with an empyreal blue-green light.

Blue-green. He was beginning to hate that color.

Come to think of it, the whole place felt familiar. Was he back in the Cave of Yasakami?

Ranma frowned, knitting his eyebrows together. No—this place was way bigger than the cave. But if that were so, then _where_ exactly was he and how had he arrived there?

He was racking his mind for answers when a soft noise startled him. There was someone else in the chamber.

His nerves were practically shrilling as he scanned his surroundings. The next moment his widened as they locked onto the figure genuflecting a few feet from where he lay, its back to him.

_Who the heck is tha—oh._

"A-Akane?" His voice came out raw and scratchy, as if he hadn't used it in a while. Absently he wondered how long he'd been unconscious.

The form turned around slowly, and Ranma gaped.

It was Akane, all right, but there was definitely something wrong. Everything about her appeared perfectly normal—except for her face, which was streaked with rivulets of tears.

She was crying.

_Akane..._ Ranma gulped, trying to smooth out the potpourri of thoughts that flooded through his mind.

He'd never seen Akane cry. Well, he corrected himself, maybe he had, once or twice. But that was only during the bleakest of circumstances, during which even he had been tempted to cry himself. She was a tough girl, his Akane. She didn't cry over trivial things.

And that was why seeing her like this scared him.

It scared him a lot.

"Akane..." He crept out of his futon and crawled over toward her cautiously, half-expecting her to lash out at him if he made one wrong move. "Is something the matter?"

She watched him as he sat on his haunches across from her, then drew her hand roughly over her red, puffy eyes. There was no answer from her.

"Hey. Come on, Akane. I'm all right," Ranma stammered as he noticed the dark rings under her eyes. He attempted a jovial smile—and failed miserably. "Akane, it's me. Ranma. I'm okay. Really. I am." He bit his lower lip as a notion took up residence in his brain. "Are y'still mad at me for what I said? Y'know, I said 'bout you always holdin' me back? And sayin' all that—all that dumb stuff 'bout real martial artists and—"

His stomach twisted unappetizingly as the details of their earlier contention came flooding back to him. Gods...he couldn't believe what he'd shouted at her...so cruel...how could he have...

"It's not that. I know you didn't mean those things."

He felt his spirits rise at her statement, then sink a moment later as he saw her observing him with empty, desolate eyes. Another thought occurred to him. "Were you worried that I'd never wake up, Akane? Is that why you're cryin'?"

She looked down at her hands. "I never doubted that you'd wake up, Ranma."

"Uhm. Right." He leaned back, a little disconcerted by her dispassionate tone of voice. Yes, there was definitely something he was missing here.

"How long have I been out?" he queried.

Akane raised her eyes to him again, and the infinite sadness he saw reflected in their depths shocked him. She looked so tired, he thought. So defeated...

"Not long," she replied.

"You sure?"

She sniffled and turned away, nodding. The motion caused her short indigo hair to glint in the weak light.

Ranma gritted his teeth. "Akane." Was that a tremor in his voice? "Akane, I—I'm sorry if I scared you like that...I—I didn't think that you—"

He wanted to kick himself. The apology sounded feeble, concocted, even to his own ears. Like he was being made to say sorry when he didn't mean it.

But he did. He really and truly did.

To his bewilderment, she only waved off his apology. "I know you didn't mean to, Ranma." Her eyes glistened anew with a supply of fresh tears, and she lowered her head, as though in shame. "But it doesn't make any difference now, does it?"

Ranma felt frigid fingers clamp over his heart. "What're you talking about?" He stood up, his hands balling into shaking fists as they angled at his sides. His gaze was smoldering as he looked down at her kneeling form. "What happened after I passed out, Akane? Where're the others? An' who the heck put us here?" Frustration crept into his voice. "Tell me!"

"What good would that do, Ranma?" she countered hollowly, a gauzy film dropping over her dark pupils. "After all, you're just going to leave me..."

His blood ran cold at her words.

_Say what—?_

"L-leave you? What're you talkin' about, Akane? I'm right here—I-I'm right here beside you...!"

Akane shook her head violently, causing disarrayed strands of hair to stick damply to her cheeks. "It doesn't matter," she choked out. "Sooner or later, you'll leave me...and I'll lose you. I...I'll lose you, Ranma..."

And somewhere within the deepest recesses of Ranma's brain, a memory stirred and came to life.

_She's going to lose you, Ranma Saotome..._

Ranma growled as he tuned out the voice in his head. He had more important things to worry about now.

"Akane, listen to me." He gripped her shoulders, forcing her up so that she could meet his eyes. "I ain't gonna leave you. We can get through this—whatever _this_ is. You got that, Akane? An' ya ain't gonna lose me. Not now. Not ever..."

His hands grew limp as he became aware of the words that had poured out of his mouth. And suddenly he was consumed by fear.

Had he sounded too desperate? Had he said too much? Had he really overdone it this time? Had he said it in a way that would make her realize that—

He glanced up into her countenance, his heart in his throat. The look of sheer hope in her eyes nearly made his knees buckle.

"You promise?" she asked, peering at him through her matted bangs. She looked unsure. Hesitant. Afraid to trust.

What had _happened_ to her? Ranma wondered wildly. This wasn't the Akane he knew. And yet...

"Yeah," he said. "I promise."

She studied him, speechless. Her eyes continued to glitter eerily in the semi-darkness.

He hesitantly reached out to her, wanting so badly to comfort her, tell her that everything was going to be all right so long as they were together.

"Akane..."

A flash of blinding scarlet light manifested behind him, and Akane threw her arm up impulsively, throwing a swift glimpse over his shoulder.

To Ranma's alarm, a look of horror descended upon her features, and he tried to swivel around to see just what she was looking at, to find out what could possibily scare her so.

Akane's scream was sharp, anguished. "Ranma, no—!"

Too late.

All it took was one fleeting glance at the luminous sight behind him, and all thoughts of Akane Tendo shriveled away. An expression of utter awe flooded his face as he gawked at the form in the midst of the corona.

It was a woman—or, more accurately, a young girl the same age as he. Her eyes were huge and crystalline and startling against her smooth, delicate features, and her lips stood out moist and red and enticing against her creamy skin. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and past her waist and bottom in long, silky waves, rippling and shimmering in the slight breeze like foxfire. There was a cool, almost indifferent, expression on her visage as she surveyed the cave.

Ranma made a hundred-eighty degree turn, his body twisting slowly about as though she were the magnetic north of his compass, and took an unsteady step toward her.

Akane seized his sleeve, her tears beginning to flow in earnest. "Ranma, don't!" she sobbed. "Don't leave me!"

He turned to her, looking thoroughly dazed, then swiveled back toward the vision of radiance at the opposite side.

_Don't fight it, Ranma._ The voice caught him off-guard for a moment. Strangely enough, it hadn't seemed to come from the girl at all. Rather, the source seemed to be coming from his head.

_Don't fight it..._ it said, sweetly and melodiously, and Ranma found it hard to do otherwise.

He took another step and wobbled at the attempt, as if his legs had transformed into jelly. The girl glanced down at him, and in response a tingle of pleasure shivered through his body. His body was thrumming with anticipation and awareness, while tiny electric bolts ran through his nervous system. Her eyes were fathomless twin pools, beckoning him to drown in them...

It felt incredible.

_She_ felt incredible.

Dimly, he heard someone shouting something behind him.

"You can't take him! I won't let you! Ranma, wait! You mustn't—you can't—Ranma, you have to listen to me! Oh, gods, please..."

And somewhere in the mist that was suffocating his brain, Ranma remembered.

_W-what...?_ His will wavered for one agonized second. He turned his head and gave the shorthaired girl behind him a last lingering glance over his shoulder.

And then his gaze landed again on the maiden standing behind him with her feet submerged in ruby light, and suddenly the shorthaired girl was the furthest thing from his mind.

_Do not worry about the girl. She will understand,_ the voice crooned in his ear. _After all, no one should ever stand in the way of destiny..._

He nodded dumbly, eyes glittering with rapture as he started to follow the silent maiden into the crimson halo.

"_Ranma_—!"

The two forms were devoured by a blink of white brilliance, and then they were gone.

Akane collapsed onto her knees in front of where the portal had been. For a minute she stayed there, stunned, disbelief and dismay written upon her visage. Then she flattened her palms on the cold floor and bowed her head low in grief.

"Oh, Ranma," she whispered. "You promised me. You promised..."

Her broken weeping was the only sound in the huge cave.

A ghost.

She had lost him to a ghost...

"_NO_!"

Ranma Saotome woke up screaming.

Again.

"Ranma, you're awake!"

"Ranma, m'boy!"

"Thank the gods!"

"Oh my!"

"See? Was I right or what? Now hand me my yen."

Ranma felt the soreness on his forehead even as he hefted himself to a sitting position. Bright light filtered in from the other side of his closed eyelids, making his features contort in a grimace. He rubbed his eyes with his hands.

And froze as the tips of his fingers met cold stone.

The magatama was back on his forehead.

"Dammit," he mumbled.

Someone scuttled over to his side, and he tensed. Even without opening his eyes, he knew it was _her_. An overwhelming guilt washed over him, the reason for which he could not fathom at the moment.

Suddenly there were other figures crowding around him, checking his neck, trying to take his pulse, trying to shove a thermometer into his mouth...

"Gah! Get away from me! I can't breathe!"

The crowd withdrew a little—probably to avoid his flailing limbs, and Ranma opened his eyes.

They were all seated around him in a circle: Akane, Genma, Soun, Kasumi, and Nabiki. Their faces were host to a miscellanea of emotions: trepidation, amazement, weariness. Ranma let his gaze rest on Akane, noting that in spite of the fact that she appeared vaguely annoyed with him, there was a look of sweet relief in her eyes.

_Akane...?_

"This ain't another dream, is it?" he croaked.

Someone pinched him on the posterior. Hard.

"_Ow_!" he yelled, slapping at the offending hand.

Nabiki sniffed as she rubbed her fingers. "Somehow, I think that'd be enough to wake you up from any nightmare," she remarked.

Now fully awake, Ranma took time to scan the room. He was sprawled on a futon on the floor of the main room of the Tendo dojo. The lights on the ceiling were on, and through the half-ajar doors leading to the patio, he could see that it was evening.

"How long was I out?" he asked in confusion.

"Nearly twenty-four hours," replied Kasumi.

He did a double take. "What?"

"You passed out when after you got that...that..._thing_ on your forehead," Soun informed him.

"We had to haul you back into the dojo," continued Genma. "You were running a high fever, so we let you stay home from school today."

Ranma exhaled heavily. He never got sick. Well, almost never.

"Oh, don't worry, Ranma," Nabiki reassured him. "Nobody forgot you. In fact, a couple of them dropped by with some goodies." She gestured at the corner of the room, where an exorbitant rose arrangement, a box of ramen, and a heart-shaped okonomiyaki were lying. Genma's panda counterpart was gnawing at the corners of the okonomiyaki and ramen containers, until Genma shooed him away.

"I'll just save this for later," grunted the elder Saotome, furtively tucking the boxes of food behind his back for later personal consumption. "I swear, that panda's going to eat us out of house and home."

"Not if certain people don't do it first," muttered Soun under his breath.

"Eh? Did you say something, Tendo?"

"Well, I—I was just thinking...perhaps we should give it to the zoo..."

Genma spun toward him, aghast. "How could you even think of doing something like that? You just can't send him away to be locked up like that! Why, he's—he's like family!"

"Judging from the way he eats, you'll get no argument from me," quipped Nabiki.

Ranma shook his head at the exchange, then frowned as an idea occurred to him. "So, uh, did anyone else...?" He let the question trail off as he saw Genma slowly shake his head.

"No. So far, m'boy, you're the only one."

His son gulped.

Nabiki poked experimentally at the jewel on his forehead. "Well, that's weird. It hasn't been glowing since it appeared on you."

"Do you mind not doin' that?" yelped the pigtailed youth, shrinking away from her enthusiastic examination.

The second Tendo daughter tossed him a fiendish grin. "You know, Ranma, this new look ain't bad for you. Reminds me of an anime character."

"Yeah, well, that's me—always fashionable," he grumbled, raising his own hand to gingerly caress the tiny gem. He was beginning to get accustomed to the sensation of cold stone against his warm skin, which disturbed him. "I don't wanna walk around with this thing stamped in the middle of my forehead for the rest of my life!"

Genma avoided his son's eyes. "Tenkei was right," he murmured. At the other's questioning looks, he added, "About the Yasakami curse."

At his father's words, the oracle's words trickled back to him, hazy and ominous. "So...what does this mean?" Ranma asked tightly, trying to smother the churning in his stomach. "What happens to me now? Do I have to go to—" He trailed off, unable to donate words to the fear that now niggled at the corner of his mind.

There was a strained silence, and then Soun Tendo stood up and began to walk out of the room.

"Where're you going, Tendo?" Genma queried, puzzled.

"To call the Nekohanten," the other man replied without looking back. "The old woman told us to contact her the minute Ranma woke up." He paused. "She's been conferring with the oldest of the Amazon elders. Apparently, they have more knowledge of this situation than any of us can comprehend. Hopefully Cologne will know what to do next."

Ranma stared after the man as he exited. For some reason, he knew that Cologne didn't have all the answers to his current plight. A little shudder ran up his spine as he realized that if he indeed was the only one with the curse of Yasakami upon him, there was a possibility that he would have to handle it on his own.

Akane moved beside him, and he started. He'd almost forgotten that she was there; she'd been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the entire conversation.

_Does she know about the dream?_ he wondered. Gods, he hoped not. _Besides, it was nothing._ He filched a glimpse of her out of the corners of his eyes. _It was nothing but a stupid dream. Yeah, stupid..._

"Did you dream about something, Ranma?"

He nearly flew out of his futon. "Wh-what? What makes you say that? Of course not! I didn't dream about nothin'! 'Fact, I didn't dream at all! What makes ya think I dreamed anythin', anyway?"

_Okay, so maybe that was a bit over the top,_ he thought.

She peeked up at him. To his amazement, there was no sign of anger or betrayal on her face.

But of course there shouldn't be. She didn't know about the dream, right?

Right?

"When you were asleep, I—I heard you calling a name," she offered. She glanced down at her folded hands, then up again. "And it—it sounded like..."

He could only gawk at her, paralyzed. _Oh no oh no please tell me I didn't say anythin' you weren't s'pposed to hear—_

"...mine," she finished meekly, a blush coloring the bridge of her nose.

Ranma nearly swallowed his tongue. "No, actually I was, well—"

"Yes?" she prompted.

He scratched the back of his head. "Well, I—I, ah, well, it was...I wanted...to say..."

Gods, why was it that whenever he needed to say something important—something relevant—his tongue kept tripping over the simplest of syllables?

"Akane, I guess...I...I'm ssss...I'm s-s-so...I'm sor—"

"I know, Ranma." Her head was tilted to the side, and there was an all-too-rare softness in her expression. It was a look that Ranma had learned to treasure, especially if it was directed toward him. "I know you didn't mean those things."

He stared at her, feeling an odd melting sensation around his heart.

Someone coughed in the background, and quick as lightning they both spun their heads around, goggle-eyed.

It appeared they had an audience. Kasumi was smiling, her hand curved daintily over her mouth. Genma was sitting cross-legged, his torso bent eagerly forward as he watched his son's little exchange with his fiancée. Nabiki was casually inspecting her nails.

"Oh, please, go on," Kasumi urged.

"Yes, Ranma, please continue!" prodded Genma, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Yeah, don't mind us," seconded Nabiki.

Ranma looked at Akane, she looked back at him. Then they both scowled and turned away from each other, though there was a telltale redness on both their complexions.

"So where're the others?" Ranma blurted out, anxious to change the subject.

"Mousse and Shampoo are with the old crone at the Nekohanten—at least for the moment," replied Nabiki, her attention still focused on her perfectly manicured cuticles.

"It appears that the Dragon clan's not after them at the moment," Genma answered in response to Ranma's unspoken inquiry. "So I assume that it's pretty much safe for them."

"Ukyou's back at Ucchan's," volunteered Akane. "And Ryouga's in the guest room, sleeping."

Ranma raised an eyebrow. "Ryouga's here?"

"Oh, my, yes," Kasumi chimed in. "Apparently, he was exhausted from last night too, so we let him stay. He's been asleep nearly as long as you."

Ranma scanned the room again. He was missing someone. "If that's so, then where's—?"

Kasumi beamed at him, reading his mind. "In the spare bedroom, across from Ryouga's."

There was a tiny creaking of hinges as the bedroom door slowly swung open, revealing the shadowy form standing out in the hallway. The door bumped against the wall, making a scraping sound as it did so, and the form slunk in.

The moon stretched its pale fingers across the bedroom floor, letting the tips rest upon the futon that had been hastily unfurled at the corner. An enormous traveling backpack was nearby, and next to it was propped a red Chinese umbrella. At the foot of the makeshift bed was a pair of soft black shoes and a worn yellow tunic.

The figure moved in front of the half-open window, momentarily snuffing out the room's only source of illumination. There it paused for a moment, contemplating the boy on the futon.

He was sound asleep and sprawled on his side, his blanket and sheets rumpled over and underneath him. His right leg was folded up so that his knee was level with his stomach. Curled up beside him was his left hand, while his right was tucked stiffly behind his back. His cheek was pressed into the pillow, and his lips were parted slightly in the middle of a soft snore.

The trespasser also noted, rather amusedly, that the bangs falling over his checkered bandanna and the hair curling at the nape of his neck were damp.

_Well, well. Doesn't he look content. So peaceful. So naïve..._

Slowly, slowly, the form raised its arms over its head.

And in its hands, an object glinted in the weak light.

He didn't dream.

Strange.

The sensation of being submerged in the midst of a nameless, swirling limbo was, to say the least, disturbing. Even as he floated there, he saw nothing. No blackness, no light, no faces, no scenes from times past, no Ranma, no mysterious blond girl.

No Akane.

His sense of foreboding grew, and he clawed his way up, slicing through the sea of sleep, gasping for air, for reality.

And woke.

The first thing he saw through his bleary eyes was the shadowy form standing right beside his bed, its stance rigid, its face all but obscured by the shadows.

It was also raising something high up above its head.

Something smooth, sharp, and gleaming...

He blinked foggily. _N-no...jus' a dream...nothing but a dream..._

SWISH

It wasn't.

"Who that on phone, great-grandmother?"

"That was Mr. Tendo. Apparently, son-in-law is finally awake."

"Ai-yah! Then Shampoo go see airen right now!"

"Hold on, granddaughter. I will come with you. I have a feeling that they will not be adverse to some explanations upon our arrival."

"You mean explanation about Yasakami curse?"

"That...as well as some other things. Fetch me my staff, child. We must leave at once."

"But great-grandmother—who take care of store?"

"Mousse can handle the Nekohanten for a while."

"Mousse—?"

"I gave him some chores to do in the kitchen. He will not even notice that we have departed."

Mousse scowled as he flattened his ear to the wooden door that separated the kitchen from the main dining area of the Nekohanten. _Not even notice, huh? Well, tough luck, old prune._

So that dried-up piece of jackfruit was going to see Ranma now, was she? And she was taking Shampoo along with her, too. For what?

Mousse began to ponder. Did the old woman know something that would be of use to Ranma and his predicament? And what about Shampoo? She'd made contact with the Yasakami water, too. Wasn't Cologne even the slightest bit anxious about her?

He knew _he_ was.

But then again, _he_ had made contact with the water as well. His scowl deepened. _But the oracle said that there was only one Chosen-Born, didn't she? And that turned out to be—no surprise here—that accursed Saotome. Which means the rest of us should be safe..._

Mousse scratched the back of his left palm, a bit vexed. He'd woken that morning with a pounding headache and an infuriating itch on his left hand. Though he'd been smothering it with herbs and oils and such the whole day, the irritation hadn't faded any. Perversely enough, it had magnified.

"Now come, Shampoo. No time to waste."

He was only dimly aware of the voices on the other side of the door as he scratched even harder at his skin. Strangely, the spot wasn't itching anymore—the tingling sensation had given way to an intense, burning pain.

Pain...?

Mousse hunched over as though he'd been pummeled in the solar plexus. His legs doubled up underneath him as he sunk onto the floor, right hand wound tightly about his left one as though it had been wounded. Nostrils flared as his breath came in fast and labored bursts.

_What the devil is happening to me—_

Waves of fire ripped through the nerves underneath his epidermis, racing a path of agony from his fingers to his arm, from his arm to his heart, from his heart to his entire torso...

His mouth was open, and there seemed to be a sound coming from it. He couldn't hear whatever it was that was coming out—not over the inferno that was raging underneath the skin of his hand. Someone was yelling. Was _he_ yelling?

He hoped like crazy that he wasn't.

Shampoo's voice drifted over from the other side of the café. "Mousse? That you?"

Damn it. She had heard.

The longhaired Chinese Amazon cursed himself for his weakness. With excruciating difficulty, he opened his mouth again to answer her, to reassure her that nothing was wrong with him, that she shouldn't worry.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

The door burst open, the corner slamming neatly into the base of his skull as he writhed on the cool kitchen floor.

"_Mousse_!"

The last thing the Amazon known as Mu Tsu saw before the world faded into blackness was the look of abject terror in his beloved Shampoo's maroon-hued eyes.

It was a bittersweet realization, he thought, just before he lost consciousness.

Cologne pogo-sticked through the door. "Shampoo, what is it—"

She trailed off at the sight before her.

Shampoo was half-kneeling, half-crouching. Sprawled on the floor, his gangly limbs twisted in awkward angles and his head on Shampoo's lap, was Mousse.

Out cold.

"Shampoo? What is the meaning of this?" she hissed. "Has that idiot been experimenting with the spices again?"

Her great-granddaughter lifted her head and stared at her. Her peaches-and-cream complexion had been reduced to an ashy white.

"Stupid Mousse," she whispered, and her voice was taut, wavering. "I told him he not have to go in Yasakami Cave, but he no listen! Stupid, stupid Mousse..."

Cologne frowned. "Shampoo..."

The girl didn't reply; instead she wrapped her slender fingers around the unconscious boy's wrist and raised his limp hand up for the old woman's inspection.

"Look," she said.

Cologne looked. Her already huge eyes widened alarmingly.

"No," she breathed. "No. It cannot be..."

But the tiny blue-green gem glimmering at the back of Mousse's left palm did not go away.

SLASH

The blade sliced through the tangled blanket and sheet of the futon, landing on a spot just below the pillow—a spot where Ryouga's neck had been about a quarter-second before.

SLASH

He rolled away again in time, feeling the blade whir at the nape of his neck.

"Hold still, damn you!" his unseen would-be assassin seethed at him.

Sounded awfully familiar, that voice. High-pitched yet dulcet, and undeniably feminine. It was just like...like...

"Ranma?"

The blade stopped moving.

Still groggy from this rather rude awakening, Ryouga staggered to his feet and stepped back. "_Well_, Ranma?" he growled.

She emerged from the umbra little by little.

First out was a pair of baleful sapphire eyes that stood out starkly from her porcelain features. Next came the glossy red hair that tumbled down her brow and the thick carmine-colored pigtail that dangled from one slender shoulder. And then there was that wicked-looking curved sword she was holding in her hand...

...which she suddenly thrust toward his abdomen.

Ryouga feinted backwards, neatly evading the blade. The last spider-webs of sleep were being chased from his mind, and he was no longer cranky or disconcerted.

Now he was just getting mad.

"Ranma, what the hell are you doing? How _dare_ you try and attack me in my sleep!"

He ducked as the sword made an impressive arc above his head.

Ryouga was definitely pissed now—pissed _and_ more than a little bit spooked. This was no ordinary grudge match. Fighting barehanded was more Ranma's style, and Ryouga could handle multiple hits from the other boy's fists. Being swiped at by a sword with a razor-sharp blade, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. And the apparent ease and extreme proficiency with which she seemed to be swinging the weapon didn't exactly boost Ryouga's already well eroded confidence either.

He almost didn't see her next move. Using her insane speed, she once again swung the sword again toward him. He was able to evade it, but not quickly enough to prevent the sword from nicking the flesh above his shoulder blades.

With a gasp, he stumbled back, sparing only a split-second glimpse at the scratch. The strap of the undershirt he was wearing was now ripped, and spots of blood were blooming on the taut threads of the white fabric.

When he looked up, she was bearing down on him again, sword held high.

That was when he decided that this wasn't funny anymore.

His hand darted out as he spun around, scrabbling frantically for the assault umbrella he had propped up beside his backpack.

He froze as he felt something cold and smooth against his throat. Beside him, a foot spun out and snap-kicked his weapon out of reach.

Ryouga lifted his head, seething, and met the frigid gaze of the girl towering over his genuflecting form. "Ranma, have you gone _insane_?"

The cold blade pressed even harder against his hot skin, an almost tender movement. Beyond it, the girl licked her lips, her words spilling forth in a soft, angry purr.

"I'm not Ranma."

Ranma ran his hand through his hair for the fifth time, his annoyance escalating.

"Getting cooties, Ranma?" Nabiki queried.

Her only response was a glare of pure vexation. "No! This...this _thing_"—he jabbed his finger at the little yin-yang-half shape on his forehead—"is driving me crazy!"

Akane crawled forward and poked experimentally at the offending gem. "Does it hurt?"

He laid his palm protectively over it. "No...it's just...it's just _there_. Like it doesn't want anythin' else over it, you know?"

"You're not exactly making sense, Ranma," Nabiki muttered.

"I mean, it feels...weird every time my hair gets in its way." As if to emphasize his point, he swept his unruly bangs away from his brow. Akane had to stare. "Like it needs to—I don't know—breathe or somethin'."

Nabiki's features remained passive, although her mouth twitched in the effort to suppress her smile. "Now that's something new."

"Look, I want this thing _off_ me," Ranma declared stubbornly. "I don't care if I gotta go to Takahashi—or whatever that place that oracle lady said I was s'posed to go—but I want this thing off, and that's all there is to it, okay?"

"Then you _are_ going."

He swiveled around and met Akane's eyes. "Of course I—I mean, no. I mean yeah. I mean—" He scratched his head, suddenly unsure. It was a disconcerting feeling, to say the least. "I—I don't know."

"You heard the oracle last night, Ranma." Obviously, she wasn't about to stop here. "She said that you were under a curse—that...that you were the Chosen-Born."

Ranma tucked his legs up to his chin and turned away from her. "She could be wrong, you know."

"And why would she?" argued Akane. "For crying out loud, Ranma, she _knew_ that one of you was gonna be the Chosen-Born!"

He regarded her incredulously over his shoulder. "Tell me one good reason why I gotta believe that I'm supposed to be this Chosen-Born person."

"If you _aren't_ it," Nabiki interjected, "then how else would you explain that little push-button on your forehead?"

"It's the sign of the Yasakami curse," shot back Ranma. "That's all it is!"

"No, Ranma." Akane shook her head. "It's more than that and you know it."

She had scooted around so now she was in front of him. Ranma wagged his head from side to side, vainly trying to avoid her piercing stare.

Akane took a deep breath. "Listen, Ranma. I know you're not too crazy about everything that's happened around here lately, but you've gotta face up to this. The Dragon Dynasty, the Chosen-Born, the curse...everything. I can't ignore them anymore, and neither should you."

He was silent for a minute, letting her words permeate the jumble of thoughts circulating in his brain. Then he captured her gaze with his, and his gray-blue eyes were disturbingly dull compared to the vivid blue-green of the magatama.

"Do you really want me to leave that much?" he asked.

The question caught her momentarily off-guard. She knew what he was referring to: in order to take on the Dynasty of the Dragon face-to-face, he would have to leave Nerima—leave everything he knew, everything that he held dear to him.

Leave _her_.

"Ranma..." She stopped. There were so many things she wanted to say to him.

_Of course not! If I did want you to leave that much, I—_

The parting words of the Dynasty's oracle replayed themselves over and over in her mind.

_"The jewel will steal away your soul—your very essence—until there is nothing left of you but a cold, empty shell..."_

If Ranma refused to undertake this mission and stayed, then he would be gone anyway. From what Akane could garner from Tenkei's ramblings, the jewel would feed on his soul, little by little, and then the Dynasty would own him. He would be nothing but a puppet, a husk of a young man who had once been Ranma Saotome—one with no feelings, no thoughts, no smart-ass remarks. Nothing.

And there was no way in hell that Akane Tendo would allow that.

Even if it meant that he would have to go away from her for Gods knew how long. Even if there existed the remote possibility that he would not come back alive...

"Do you really want me to leave, Akane?" Ranma asked again. His eyes bored into hers. "Do you?"

She bit her lip. "You have to," she whispered.

Ranma gaped at her, and he was wearing an expression she was sure she had never seen there before. Then he turned his head away from her, directing his words to the bamboo floor.

"Right," he said gruffly. "I'll talk to Pop, get things together tonight, and then if I'm lucky, I might be able to go first thing tomorrow morni—"

Akane interrupted him. "But if you want, I'll go with you, Ranma."

His head whipped up again, and there was a look of shock on his countenance.

"What?" he croaked, unable to believe his ears.

Akane smiled, and for a moment Ranma was sure that there was some inner glow emanating from within her. "I'll go with you," she repeated patiently.

Ranma stared at her. So did Nabiki.

_She wants to go...with _me He felt lightheaded, and unreasonably giddy. _I don't even know where I'm supposed to go, what I'm supposed to do...but she wants to go with me so..._

He choked down the lump that had formed in his throat. "Akane—"

CRASH

The three of them jumped, and immediately their gazes drifted upwards. Sprinkles of dust shook loose from the shuddering ceiling.

Nabiki glanced at Ranma and Akane and cocked a knowing eyebrow.

"Sounds like someone up there's having fun, if you know what I mean..."

CRASH

The ceiling trembled even more alarmingly as the couple gawked back at the older girl.

"Maybe a little _too_ much fun," she amended quickly.

_Insane. She's insane, insane, insane..._

Ryouga was chanting madly in his head as he danced around the room, hearing the blade's whisper a hairsbreadth away from his back. The sounds of splintering wood echoed behind him, proof of her murderous intent.

His mind continued to scream at him, invoking every ounce of self-preservation he had. _Something...gotta do something..._anything

There was no place to utilize the Breaking Point Technique. A ki-blast was out of the question—he wasn't about to stand still and concentrate on his depression with an eager sword-wielding maniac dancing about trying to slice off his neck. Through his mounting panic, Ryouga realized that none of his otherwise formidable techniques were useful at this point. He had almost always been the offender in his battles, but now that he had been thrust into the role of defender, he didn't have the slightest idea what to do.

Except escape. Yeah, that was it. Escape.

His eyes riveted on the partially blocked door. He leaped, rolled across the floor, and scrambled for the exit.

She never gave him the chance.

The first thing he was aware of was the burning sensation that had manifested itself around his wrists. The next moment his torso was being jerked backwards, wrists first, and he was towed across the bedroom floor, not unlike an unwieldy sack of meat.

_What the—?_

Ryouga twisted his body fruitlessly, tugging against the stinging cord-like material. He winced as it hissed against his skin. It didn't feel like rope. A whip, perhaps...?

Where the hell had she gotten one? And what had happened to her sword?

His turbulent thoughts all but vanished from his mind as he was suddenly, violently spun around—courtesy of the whip-like implement around his wrists—so that he was facing his foe. The hot, sizzling cord knotted about his flesh loosened and slid off his tender skin, leaving a raw, angry red mark.

He hit the floor hard. Shivers of pain streaked up his spine as he propped himself up on one aching elbow.

The next moment he froze as he felt something cold and knifelike slide across the skin on his chest.

Damn it—she'd gotten back her sword.

Ryouga flinched as the curved blade flashed silver a few inches before his eyes, hovering above his rapidly beating heart.

Flabbergasted, he stared as the blade slid down to rest just a centimeter or two above his stomach, grazing the flimsy cotton material of his undershirt. But she didn't stop there. Instead she inched it upwards once more, letting the razor-sharp weapon slice through the material of his collar.

What kind of sick torture game was she playing on him?

He raised his head up, emerald eyes burning with helpless fury. And, in spite of himself, a torrent of angry words poured out of his mouth like venom.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" he yelled. " If you want to kill me so much, then do it already! Here's your chance—now get it over with, damn it!"

The sword froze at his throat.

"No," she managed. Her voice was trembling.

Ryouga blinked. _No?_

"No," she repeated softly. "That would be too easy."

The chant started up again in his brain. _Mad, she's mad. Stark raving mad..._

Even so, he tried one last stab at reasoning with her. "Wait a damn minute! Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?"

Far from calming her, his words served to do just the opposite: her look of indecision evaporated from her countenance like mist on a mirror, and the ice in her eyes was gone, melted by cerulean fire.

"How dare you pretend that you've forgotten! Do you really think so low of me to assume that I would be swayed by what you tell me? Again, I ask—how _dare_ you?"

Had he not been occupied with other things, Ryouga would have been dumfounded by the hundred-eighty-degree turn her patois had taken. As it was, he just trying not to squirm as the sword's edge nipped his neck. A millimeter more, and he was certain that it would draw blood.

And then her voice dropped to an oddly voluptuous register.

"You have no idea. No idea at all," she was murmuring, and there was a curiously wistful quality to that statement. "There was so much...so much that could have been...I should have known better, I knew it was not to be—but, damn it all, I did not _care_!" Just like that her veneer of melancholy vanished, and her anger reasserted itself over her pain. "And it is all your fault! How dare you show up and shatter my entire world—destroy everything I ever believed in...everything I thought I ever was! And now...and now it has come to _this_..."

He opened his mouth to speak, to ask her just what the hell she was talking about, but he never got the chance.

"Goodbye," she said, and whatever came out of her mouth after that was rendered inaudible.

And the room turned crimson.

"Why won't it open?" yelled Akane, tugging futilely at the doorknob.

"Someone musta locked it," decided Ranma, his eyes thinning into slits as he surveyed the door. "All of ya, stand back. I'm kickin' this thing in."

"Do—do you really think that's necessary?" babbled a nervous Soun.

"Well it _is_ the only way we'll ever be able to stop whatever's going on in there," Nabiki pointed out. As if on cue, a thumping noise came from the vicinity of the locked room.

Ranma fell into a fighting stance, his countenance grim. "All right—here goes nothin'!"

And with that, he let loose a ferocious roundhouse kick.

CRACK

To his chagrin, the bolt came free, but the door remained steadfastly in place.

"What the—?" Akane began.

Ranma flattened his palms against the wood, grimacing. "Damn—there's somethin' blockin' it...that's why it won't move!"

CRASH

Nabiki started a little at the ruckus behind the door. "There _has_ to be a reasonable explanation for this, right?"

"There never is," grumbled Ranma. As though to prove his point, he pressed his ear to the door, then frowned. The noise had ceased significantly, and an eerie silence reigned. "Hey. It's stopped."

Akane rolled up her sleeves in determination. "Will you quit talking and force this thing open already?"

Ranma stared at her. "Whaddaya gonna do? Push it open?"

"You have any other bright ideas?" she retorted.

"Well, no, but—"

"Oh, push already!" groused Nabiki.

"All right, all right! Gang up on me, will ya? Geez!"

The three of them were oblivious as Genma Saotome clambered noisily up the stairway, clutching the phone receiver to his ear and twisting the stretched-out cord around his index finger.

"What?" he droned into the receiver, straining to hear above the noise. "Huh? What's going on, you say? Oh, nothing—the house sounds like this all the time! Hehehehehe..." He chuckled maniacally as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Eh? Uhmmm...no, that was nothing. What was that—?"

"C'mon, Akane! Let's see those muscles of yours in action!"

"Why, you..."

"Will you two lovebirds please concentrate on opening this door?"

"_Lovebirds_?" shrilled Akane.

"Over my dead body!"

"Oh, be quiet, Ranma!"

Genma clapped a hand over the speaking end of the receiver. "Eh? No—hahaha...everything's fine here. Wait—I thought you were coming over here...what? Why not?" Trenches appeared on his brow. "What do you mean, there's been a change in your plans? Huh? Something's come up? Like what, pray tell?"

"Push! Yeah, that's it, Akane, push!"

"Uhm, Ranma...would you mind not saying that? You're making it sound like she's delivering a baby."

"That was _totally_ uncalled for, Nabiki."

"Ooooh! If both my hands were free I'd—"

"Come _over_?" Genma was now yelling into the phone. "What do you mean, 'come over'? Can't you tell we've got troubles of our own over here? Huh? Hahaha—did I say 'troubles of our own'? No, no, no—I was merely joking! Er, I mean—yes, ma'am, we'll be right over..."

The entire room was still as death.

She stood over him, a strange, indeterminate expression plastered on her face. Her arm was extended out toward his inert form, and there were wisps of carmine smoke curling out from her fingertips—and from the black-ringed hole she had blasted clear through the bedroom floor.

Somehow managing not to move a muscle, Ryouga shifted his stunned gaze from the smoldering crater an inch to his left and trained it on the girl now towering over him. To his bafflement, she seemed frozen in her initial stance, her hand outstretched and palm up, a glassy film forming over her eyes as they met his.

She looked wild. Abashed.

And so very lost.

It was the chance he'd been waiting for.

Ryouga lashed out at her with a swiftness that surprised the both of them, hooking his foot around her left ankle and giving it a good hard yank.

Emitting a strangled gasp, she began to topple over, and he launched himself at her, cannonball-style.

They collided in a crazy tangle of arms and limbs, rolling about the floor as each struggled to seize the upper hand. Without warning hot red sparks sizzled out from her palms, catching Ryouga off-guard long enough for her to take advantage of his distracted state. She flung him to the floor, securing him there by leveling one arm across his throat and the other one over his wrists. Her knees dug painfully into his thighs, rendering him once more immobile. He cursed under his breath.

She was panting from the exertion, her breath hot on his face, and the silhouette of a curved sword glowed faintly in her left hand.

_The sword...how the hell did she—_

But the weapon disappeared as unexpectedly as it had materialized, and when Ryouga glanced up at her he thought he saw that same rueful, unbridled expression he'd seen earlier on her...

Again her hesitation proved her undoing. Before she knew what was happening, he had flipped the both of them over so that she was the one pinned underneath him.

That was when the door broke.

"Ryouga?"

From what Nabiki, Ranma, and Akane could make out, the guest bedroom had been reduced to an archetype from one of Soun Tendo's worst nightmares. The place looked like a typhoon hazard: smashed furniture strewn every which where, dents decking the walls, and peculiar circles of soot on the floor.

Which, incidentally, was where they saw Ryouga. And there was someone else with him.

Or, more accurately, underneath him.

"Ryouga?" Akane repeated hesitantly, squinting into the room as her vision adjusted to the relative dimness. All she could make out was Ryouga, on his hands and knees, and the small pale hand curled up against his left bicep...

She was just about to ask what was going on, but Ranma had a different query.

"Ryouga—what the _hell_ d'ya think you're doin'?" he blustered.

Before Akane could react, Ranma had disappeared from her side in a red blur, and suddenly Ryouga was flying backwards like he had been yanked by invisible marionette strings. It took a full two seconds for her to process that it had been Ranma who had struck him.

"Ranma, what was—"

Akane's incensed words died on her lips as she recognized the supine form that had been lying underneath Ryouga.

"Ranko?" she exclaimed.

The girl groaned and sat up, blinking dubiously as she recognized the newcomers. "Akane? Nabiki...Ranma..."

Ranma touched his hand solicitously to the small of her back, as though afraid her spine would collapse without support. "Easy there. You okay, Ranko?"

She gave him a brief, searching glance and raised a hand to her brow, smoothing away the disheveled bangs. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her movements languid and almost drowsy in their execution—for all Akane knew, the girl might as well have just woken up from a bad dream.

"Ranmaaa! What the hell was _that_ for?"

They all turned at Ryouga's enraged tone. The lost boy was peeling himself off the wall he'd been punched into. His hair was mussed, undershirt badly torn, and his green eyes were ablaze with indignation.

Instead of replying right away, Ranma ignored him in favor of helping a sluggish Ranko to her feet. Thus done, he then straightened up to glare at the other boy.

"Like you don't know," he commented icily.

Ryouga tugged at the straps of his tattered shirt, painfully conscious of Akane's gaze on him. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Don't gimme that!" barked Ranma. "What the hell did you think you were doin' attackin' Ranko like that?"

"W-w-wait a minute!" Ryouga cut in, astonished. "You're not thinking that _I_ attacked her—"

Ranma cut him off with a brusque sweep of his arm. "Why not? We hear scuffling sounds comin' from up here, and when we break down the door you're there"—his features twisted in repugnance from the memory—"practically on top a' her like...like y'were...g-gonna attack her or somethin'—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" sputtered the other boy. "She was the one who attacked me!"

Nabiki seemed only vaguely befuddled by the accusation, while her younger sister was taken aback.

"Man, I can't believe you!" Ranma's voice was laced with disdain. "I used to think that you at least had some code of honor or somethin', Ryouga, but I guess I was wrong!"

"I'm telling you, Ranma, she attacked _me_! She was going to take my head off while I was sleeping! She even had a sword with her!"

Almost simultaneously, four pairs of eyes dropped to the redheaded girl's hands. To Ryouga's bewilderment, they were very much empty.

"Well...she—she must've dropped it when we were struggling," he jabbered as he flickered his gaze over the shambles of the room, desperate to erase the incertitude on his beloved Akane's face. "It's probably just lying around here somewhere, I know it..."

Nabiki stood off to the side, wisely opting not to interfere in the ensuing drama. Ranma, on the other hand, was appalled at Ryouga's behavior, and more than a bit mystified by it as well. Violent and headstrong as Ryouga tended to be sometimes, the idea of him assaulting an innocent girl—Ranma clone or not—was too ludicrous for him to absorb. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes...

"Gimme a break, Ryouga. Or at least try to come up with a more believable excuse. Come on, a sword? Please!"

"I'm not lying! She had a whip, too—"

"A _whip_?" echoed Ranma. _Perfect,_ he thought. _Not only does the kid get violent hallucinations—he gets violent kinky ones._ "Uh-huh. Yeah. Right. Sounds more like wishful thinkin', P-Chan."

"Shut up! L-look, she even grabbed me with it! I-I'll show you—" The bandannaed boy held up his wrists, only to halt in mid-action as he gaped at the flawless patch of skin where the ribbon-like weapon had supposedly left its stinging imprint. Undaunted, he pursued a new road. "Look, if I did attack her, why is she here in my room?"

"Maybe you brought her here—I dunno. How should I know how your hallucinations work?"

"Dammit, Ranma, I'm telling the truth here! She's out to kill me!"

"Riiight. I believe ya."

Akane observed her fiancé with a touch of worry. Ranma Saotome's jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists, and the jewel on his forehead...

The jewel on his forehead was _alive_—it was throbbing, emanating a distinct greenish-blue glow.

She shut her eyes, opened them, and looked again. Nothing.

_It must have been a trick of the light,_ she reassured herself. _Just a trick of the light..._

"I know what's going on with you—you're defending her!" shot back Ryouga, now thoroughly fed up with Ranma's intractability. "I should've known you'd take her side! I mean, you two _are_ cut from the same cloth, so I really shouldn't be surprised—"

"Will you just shut _up_!"

Everyone started at Ranko's unexpected outburst, including Nabiki.

The petite redhead elbowed her away in front of Ranma and planted herself in front of the lost boy, poking her index finger into his chest.

"Now you listen to me, pig-boy," she hissed. "I did _not_ attack you. Why would I do that in the first place? Okay, so I know a couple of good reasons why I'd do that, but still...me attack you? I mean, what chance would little ol' girly me have against a big strong martial artist like you, huh?"

_A really big one, especially with that magical glowing whip-sword of yours,_ Ryouga wanted to say. He stifled the retort, however, well aware of how absurd it would sound. "Well, then, why don't _you_ tell them what happened?"

He expected her to concoct some sort of elaborate sob story—with their respective roles reversed, of course—but she didn't allow him that satisfaction.

Instead the anger drained from her face, replaced by something like nebulous confusion, and she ducked her head away from him.

"I don't remember," was all she said.

Ryouga appraised her warily, uncertain on how to respond to this. She _had_ to be faking it—surely she didn't expect him to believe that she'd had a convenient bout of amnesia right after she'd chased him around the room in a bloodthirsty frenzy, did she?

"What?" Ranma stalked up to her, his countenance skeptical. "So you're sayin' y'don't remember how you got into Ryouga's room?"

She rubbed her neck, testily. "Look, all I know is that I went to bed, and then all of a sudden there's screaming, I'm on the floor of someone else's room, and for no reason at all, pig-boy here"—she tossed the bandannaed boy a malignant look—"is accusing me of attacking him in his sleep!"

Akane looked from a frustrated Ryouga to an indignant Ranko, weighing their varying accounts in her mind. For some obscure reason, Akane found it difficult to disbelieve either one, especially considering the solemnity on Ranko's visage and the blood on Ryouga's—

"Ryouga, you're bleeding!" she exclaimed.

He glanced down almost casually at the crimson _fleur-de-lis_ on his shredded shirt as though he had spotted it only now—understandable, Akane thought, since they had been rather occupied with the who-attacked-who debate, and the only source of illumination inside the room was the light trickling in from the outside hallway.

"It's just a flesh wound," he reassured her offhandedly, tearing off a bit of his undershirt.

"No, wait." Akane stopped his hand before he could dab at the injury. "Let me get the antiseptic downstairs, and I'll patch it up for you."

He regarded her tentatively, the ghost of a blush tingeing his complexion. "Nuh-no, that's all right, Akane—you don't have to do that..."

Ranma let out a derisive "hmph", promptly jolting Ryouga out of his Akane-induced Nirvana. "Geez, Akane, you don't hafta make such a big deal outta this—it's just a little cut. It ain't like he's gonna bleed to death." Missing the rankled expression Akane threw at him, he bent closer to inspect the wound on Ryouga's shoulder. "So where'd ya get _that_, Ryouga?"

"I already told you!" The other boy tipped his head toward a paling Ranko. "She did it. With her sword."

His reply came in the form of a bap on the head, courtesy of an exasperated Ranma. "Will you cool it already with that sword crap? I'm tellin' you man, that was probably just a hallucination or somethin'."

"There you go again—defending her! You're just—" Ryouga halted his diatribe when he caught sight of the other boy's new forehead decoration. "Hey, Ranma, it's still there..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ranma seemed irked that the other boy had noticed it.

"But it's—that means—" Ryouga persisted feebly, aware of the significance of the yin-yang shape.

"Bingo, smart boy. It's my very own magatama, and it's obviously here t'stay. Kinda proves ya wrong 'bout me not bein' the Chosen-Born, eh?" Ranma waved it off impatiently, steering his mind back to his original topic. "But we're not talkin' about that right now. Somethin' weird just went on here, and I'm gonna find out what!"

"I'm telling you for the last time, Ranma—the only thing weird in here is that female half of yours—"

"Will you quit blaming me?" snapped Ranko peevishly.

"You heard her, Ryouga—lay off already!"

"But she tried to _kill_ me!"

Akane turned appealingly to Nabiki for help, but her older sister hung back, evidently enjoying the show. Resigned, the youngest Tendo daughter was just about to whip out her trusty authority-instituting mallet when Genma Saotome's corpulent outline appeared at the doorway.

"Ranma, m'boy, quit playing around! We need to be making tracks to the Nekohanten—on the double!"

The argument ceased instantly, and Ranma focused his attention on his frantic-looking father. "Huh? What's wrong?"

Genma flailed his arms. "How should I know? All she said was that something came up and we'd better get our butts over there. Now get moving!"

Ranma darted one last look at Ryouga and Ranko. Grudgingly he supposed that this dilemma could be settled another time—for now, he wanted to know what had agitated Cologne. "You got it, Pop."

"You too, Ryouga." Genma spared him a perfunctory glimpse, then did a double take as he took in the young man's appearance. "Ye gods! What happened to you, boy?" He scanned the ravaged surroundings, aghast. "What happened to the _room_?"

"Long story, Pop." Ranma shoved past Ryouga. "C'mon, Pork Rind. Think you can keep up with us?"

Ryouga shoved him back. "No problem, Drag Queen."

Old habits—particularly name-calling—apparently died hard.

"Uncle Saotome, wait. I'm coming with you," Akane piped up.

"So am I," chimed in Ranko, combing her fingers through her unkempt vermilion locks. "It's not like I'm not gonna get any more sleep now as it is."

"All right, all right," relented Genma, obviously anxious to depart as soon as possible. "Let's go."

Foregoing any additional preamble, he herded them all out into the corridor, leaving Nabiki alone in the wrecked guestroom.

Expression thoughtful, the second Tendo daughter reached into her jeans pocket, extracted her multi-purpose penlight—an indispensable tool when it came to capturing those spontaneous nighttime shots that Tatewaki Kuno favored so much—and swept its beam into the gloom. She let out a slow whistle as she inspected the impressively sized hole on the floor, in a corner nearly concealed by shadows. The cavity was surrounded by a dispersing ring of blackened wood—the kind that occurred in the aftermath of a ki-blast.

Next her eyes fixated on the remains of Ryouga's futon. The sheets had been sliced almost to ribbons, and the mattress had been neatly seared in half. Almost as if they had come into contact with a blade of some sort...

Nabiki leaned forward and ran the tips of her fingers against the suspicious-looking gashes that adorned the back wall. Common sense dictated that the marks could not have been possibly made by bare fingers—and certainly not Ryouga's belt or one of his bandannas. They were too deep, too clean.

At that point she recalled how Ryouga had rambled about an imaginary sword. Could it be that it wasn't so imaginary after all?

"Well, isn't _this_ interesting," she murmured to the empty room.

_End of Chapter Twelve_

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Whoo...and here I thought the hiatus between Chapter Ten and Eleven was _long_...shows how fickle circumstances (and yours truly) can be...

Anyways, this chapter was certainly a long time coming. One of the reasons for that was a temporary loss of inspiration thanks to the airport theft (to the creep who filched my Pullman: give my stuff back! And shame on you for stealing a dirt-broke teen's junk; just what did you _think_ was in that thing—gobs of greenbacks?); the rest should be attributed to the immutable mystery that is Real Life. I know there've been people who've sent me e-mails asking me everything from the status of my fanfics and sites to my current state of mind. All I can say is that I'm very sorry; I can no longer answer any letters sent to my AOL inbox. Just in case you missed the announcement on the front page, here's my brand-new and hopefully foolproof address: That should be easy to remember, neh?

As of this time, I'm rewriting this fanfic's outline (to replace the one that was takenÖgrrrÖ) and sketching upcoming original characters (and dear God, there are going to be a lot of those; current count's fifteen). I already have chapter titles and brief summaries for Book II and the concluding Book III of "Dynasty", and trust me—there's still quite a ways to go. :) As for the graphic novel aspect, well, I've done some more trial doujinshis (the first of which includes a scene from "Doors Best Left Unopened" from "The Shadow Chronicles"—great scene, amateurish panels ;;) mostly as practice.

Oh, and thanks to Ben Bradley's displaying my art on his fanfic site "A Feather in the Wind", I got to have a short _Ranma ½_ doujinshi published in an amateur anthology! Woo-hoo:) It's currently out-of-print now, but that shouldn't be any big loss 'cause my work there, in retrospect, leaves a lot to be desired (which is why I refuse to post art from it online). ;) I am, however, toiling on a new doujinshi, tentatively titled "Glass", for another anthology—this one featuring stories that take place after the original Rumiko Takahashi series' ending—and this piece should turn out much better. After that's another doujinshi dealing with the _Ranma ½_ series seventeen years after, but that's a long way off...

Okay, that's enough rambling. ;) At any rate, thank you all for reading; I just have one more scene to finish in Chapter Thirteen before it's done—honest! After that, Chapter Fourteen should conclude Book I, and then I need to fix up some new "Dynasty" graphics for the beginning of Book II. Trust me, Book I's just the tip of the iceburg.

Ja ne,  
Sydney Kyle


	14. Chapter 13: Deviations in the Plot

By Sydney Kyle

Chapter Thirteen: Deviations in the Plot

"Heaven sustenyne thy course in quietness  
To abound and rise as mountain hill and range  
Constant as the rivers flow that all augment  
Steady th' increase in ever cyclic change."

—Book of Songs (Shih Ching)

It had always been the assumption of the majority of Nerimans that Shampoo usually accorded Mousse with less dignity than she would an insect at tT mercy of her dainty little Chinese slippers. At the moment, however, those aforementioned Nerimans would be dumfounded at what was unfolding in the attic room of the Nekohanten that served as Mousse's living quarters.

The room, though modest both in size and appearance, looked like cross between a hostel space and a weapons repository. Along with the neatly arranged assortments of chains, blades, projectiles, and ceramic armaments, there were small clay sculptures, Chinese ornaments, and other related items. Squeezed into the midst of this were a rickety table, a dilapidated stool on which Shampoo sat, balancing a bowl of cool water on her lap, and a squalid bed on which Mousse was sprawled.

In the wake of his manifestation of a magatama, Cologne had been forced to alter their plans: instead of their journeying to the Tendo residence, the former Jusenkyoites would have to come to the Nekohanten instead. After checking and rechecking Mousse's symptoms, she'd ordered Shampoo to see to him while she contacted the others. Her granddaughter had been too stunned by this newest turn of events to object.

With shaky limbs and a sick heart, she'd slung Mousse over her shoulder and trundled him up to his bedroom. After tucking him in the best she could, she'd stomped back downstairs for water, ice, cold compresses, and various medicinal concoctions—for Mousse had suddenly developed a high-grade fever—all the while eavesdropping on bits and snippets from her great-grandmother's phone conversation.

She shouldn't even be up here. This magatama business was _Mousse's_ fault, after all—she'd told him he didn't have to follow her into that cave, didn't she? Only her husband-to-be was worthy of her ministrations, but now here she was tending to Mousse while somewhere out there, that hoyden of a girl Akane Tendo had probably tended to Ranma when _he'd_ been sick...

There it was again—that customary surge of resentment that always seemed to accompany matters concerning her unlucky suitor. But since he was already out cold, she held her emotions in check. Mousse was out cold, so beating him up to relieve her stress was obviously out of the question.

So here she was, attending to a boy she resented at times for cramping her style, for stalking her every move like a veritable second shadow.

She smiled ruefully. Had this played out back in their native Joketsuzoku, her village sisters would never let her hear the end of it. It was sacrilege for Chinese Amazon of her rank to extend this sort of simpering clemency toward any lower-caste male, especially one who had not defeated her in combat. She could hear their jeers now: the great Shampoo, reduced to a nursemaid for her would-be paramour! She's supposed to be tough as nails and apathetic as they come, but she's gone soft; she's settled for Mu Tsu, that blind weak idiot, because he's worn her down and she can't find anyone better...

A few drops splattered onto her wrist, alerting her to the white-knuckled grip she had on the bowl. She relaxed her hands and kneaded listlessly at the curve of her exposed shoulder, chastising herself for allowing a couple of imaginary taunts to vex her like this.

Still, the derision of her Amazon sisters would always weigh heavily in her mind. Cologne would tell her great-granddaughter repeatedly to disregard their behavior; they were simply jealous because she was the favorite of the elders, who were ecstatic over the fact that they might finally have a bona fide Joketsuzoku contender for the Chinese Amazon throne. But it was difficult for Shampoo to simply brush it off; it was always the same old cycle—fair-weather friendships, back talk, and subterfuge from her peers and the rest of the townspeople. In fact, the only non-elder who hadn't treated her like that had been...

_Mousse._

As if responding to her silent mention of his name, the Chinese Amazon youth stirred underneath his blanket. The sudden motion was enough to startle Shampoo out of her reminiscing, and she swept a critical gaze over the figure on the bed.

With his round rimless spectacles lying askew on the top of his head and glossy black locks strewn every which-way over the shabby pillow, Mousse seemed to maintain an aura of earnest haplessness about him even in repose. The tranquility in his features was marred somewhat by the indentation between his brows, as though he were being confronted with some subliminal riddle. His mouth was half-open, but she couldn't hear him breathing—not a hitch, not even a snore.

By the gods, he was quiet. Too quiet.

Uneasily she reached out and positioned her finger underneath his nostrils. His respiration was steady, but that was the only testament to his being alive. Aside from that brief movement a minute earlier, he'd been completely motionless. For Shampoo, who was accustomed to the young man's nervous, eager presence fluttering ceaselessly about her, it was quite an unsettling turnaround.

"Mousse, wake up."

Her half-command, half-plea sounded loud and intrusive in the tiny garret space, but it was effective nonetheless in breaking that onerous spell of silence.

Predictably enough, the Chinese boy did not comply, which marked another deviation in the graph of what passed for normality in Nerima: to Mousse, every syllable that flowed from his beloved Shampoo's lips was gospel. Had she asked him to count the grains of rice in all of the Nekohanten's rice bins, he would gladly do so.

But he wasn't listening to her now, was he?

"Mousse, you wake up right now! Is not like you to be so still!"

It was an exercise in futility and she knew it, but that didn't deter her. Berating Mousse was safe and familiar territory, and if there was anything she so desperately needed at this particular impasse in time, it was the return of routine.

"Mousse..."

Shampoo let her eyes wander toward the back of the sleeping boy's hand, where they lingered over its newest accessory: the blue-green stone that seemed to have risen from the skin, bright and buffed and eerily beautiful.

She hated it. Hated the fact that it was there and hated it for what its connotations forebode for her—and for its host.

"Stupid magatama," she hissed at the gem. "You not supposed to pick Mousse. He weak, not strong warrior like Ranma. He no able to fight Dynasty! Mousse just get stupid duck behind killed, you see!"

Suddenly, the possibility of losing Mousse—losing the daily myopic episodes, the over-solicitousness, the bungling romantic overtures—frightened her. From childhood on he had been a constant—albeit chafing—factor in her life; aside from her great-grandmother, he was the only reminder she had left of her old days, insufferable as they had been, and if he up and disappeared on her she wouldn't know what to do—

"Oracle say there only one Chosen-Born. Magatama make mistake when pick Mousse, yes? So you go away now, okay? Shoo! Stupid rock, you go away now, you leave Mousse alone. He no survive if he go to Takamagahara, he no come back..."

There was a low whine as the bedroom door swung open, and Shampoo jerked her head toward the noise, feeling strangely guilty at being caught at a moment that teetered on vulnerable.

To her consternation, the intruder wasn't even human. It was the Nekohanten's newest "mascot" of sorts: her former feline alter ego, which she'd taken to calling "Neko"—it was simple, straightforward, and didn't sound nearly as ridiculous as Akane's "Muu Muu Chan" brainstorm.

Speak of the feathered devil, Shampoo thought, as a familiar white fowl—complete with miniature spiral-tinted glasses—waddled in after the cat. Admittedly, a Chinese restaurant wasn't the ideal locale for a duck, but Mousse had been loath to part with the animal, and for some reason, neither did Shampoo—though of course she didn't tell him that.

As it were, the two animals lingered near the entryway, giving no indication of advancing any further. Shampoo placed the bowl of lukewarm water on the nearby table and placed some distance between her and the dozing young man. The two animals' heads moved in perfect unison as they watched her, their eyes troubled, and the Amazon girl felt her stomach clench in embarrassment.

"Neko, Muu Muu Chan, you no look at me like that! Is no Shampoo's fault that Mousse like this! Is his fault..."

At this, the pastel-furred cat slunk forward, leaped easily onto the bed, and proceeded to meow. Muu Muu Chan had to suffer a few collisions with the bottom headboard, causing Shampoo to forget for a couple of seconds that that Mousse no longer inhabited this form, before finally depositing himself on the the bed beside Neko. Once done, he quacked disconsolately at seeing his "master" in such dire straits.

Shampoo dropped her gaze, letting her fingers massage her shoulder. There was something infinitely melancholy about a cat and duck wailing, threnody-like, over the afflicted young man. Neko and Muu Muu Chan harbored very strong attachments to their former counterparts, and were very sensitive to either one's moods or conditions.

Then Muu Muu Chan stopped, glanced towards the purple-haired Amazon, and wakked plaintively. In spite of herself, Shampoo patted the bird on its downy head.

"Shampoo know," she said, and touched Mousse's cloth-covered brow. "Shampoo worried, too."

Surrealistically touching scenes such as this occurred rarely in Nerima, and when they did, they usually did not last long. Case in point: Cologne's voice drifted up from downstairs, causing Shampoo to yank her hand away from the young man with whiplash-inducing speed.

"Shampoo! Ranma's here!"

"Airen!" gushed the Amazon girl, leaping to her feet and knocking over an unfortunate Muu Muu Chan over in her excitement. The mention of her betrothed was enough to banish all traces of gloom from her mind—and subsequently dispel whatever tentative rapport she'd been building with Mousse.

She stole a glimpse at her unconscious would-be suitor and flushed, thinking how crazy she must've sounded talking to him while sympathizing with a cat and duck. It was the stress of the past few days getting to her, she reasoned, nothing more. Thank goodness for her airen's arrival; it had provided her the proverbial thump on the skull, jolting her back to her senses just as she was being weak, being anything less than the paradigm of a Chinese Amazon...

Ignoring the combined stares of Neko and Muu Muu Chan, Shampoo bounded out of the room without so much as a backwards glance—because Mousse was _fine_, she told herself stubbornly—and bolted down the stairs. Already she could detect voices tangled in conversation, among them her great-grandmother's, the senior Saotome's, the Crazy Violent Tendo Girl's—though Shampoo could not fathom why she had elected to join a Jusenkyo-exclusive gathering—the lost boy's, and yes, Ranma's.

_Ai-yah! It's true, he's awake!_ she exulted to herself, straightening her short sleeveless Chinese dress in anticipation of their reunion. She'd been averse to leave Ranma after he'd collapsed, but he had remained inanimate all throughout the night. It was only after extracting a firm promise from his father to inform her the second his son woke that Cologne was able to coax her great-granddaughter to get some rest back at the Nekohanten.

Shampoo was halfway down the stairs when she identified a sixth voice: it belonged to Girl-Ranma—Ranko, her brain supplied for her.

It was true that yesterday she had been moderately genteel toward the little redhead. But now that Shampoo had been able to review the situation at her leisure, she realized that the Yasakami body-splitting procedure had presented her with an inimitable opportunity. Once she fulfilled her original mission to kill the female outsider—Ranko, in this case—and married the one who had triumphed over her—Ranma—then surely no one would dare contest her title as the champion of Joketsuzoku, not even her envious Amazon sisters...

Totally absorbed in her ruminations, she reached the first floor and barreled into the Nekohanten's kitchen.

"Ah!"

The scrape of a bare shoulder against a wall should not have been enough to warrant a gasp of pain from a Chinese Amazon, but in this instance it was. Shampoo slowed to a stop and scrutinized the reddening patch of skin, genuinely perplexed at the acute spike of pain that had accompanied the contact.

Then she scoffed at herself. It was just a bump and that was the end of it, and it was pointless to devote any more time to the matter...but she wished like hell that it didn't feel like someone had drilled a hole into her flesh and sealed it with smelting iron...

Though she tried her very best to be horrified, the most she could dredge up was a sort of bemused dismay. Her hand flailed outwards, seeking purchase, and found it on one of the catering tables. Utterly disoriented and panting harshly, she struggled to keep the world from pirouetting around her.

A second later her body spasmed as the agony in her shoulder flared to near-intolerable levels. Temporarily robbed of muscle control, she fell, taking the table and its contents—trays, plates, bowls, and miscellaneous utensils—with her.

All that metal raining on her defenseless torso and crashing to the linoleum floor might not have registered inside Shampoo's rapidly deteriorating consciousness, but the commotion was apparently enough to summon the congregation out in the dining area into the kitchen.

Suddenly she was surrounded by blurs, the smallest of which sounded like her great-grandmother, and Shampoo slowly craned her neck toward her right shoulder. Through the haze that clawed at the edges of her darkening vision, she could recognize the telltale blue-green twinkle of an emerging magatama, alive and vivid against her blanched, clammy skin.

Her last coherent thought was that either the oracle woman had not considered the probability of multiple Chosen-Born, or everything the former Jusenkyo-afflicted knew about their replacement curse was a lie.

Noon brought with it the advent of the first of the spring showers: fine needlelike rain pit-patting the cement and cinderblock edifices of urban Nerima, while the canary-yellow sun shone on in the blue pastel sky as if in defiance. Out on the streets, pedestrians clutched newspapers over their heads and sprinted for shelter or strolled on, oblivious to the minimal downpour. Now and then a passerby, presumably one of the lunchtime crowd, would scamper over toward the Nekohanten, only to shuffle off in disappointment after spotting the "Closed" sign tacked up on the door.

Such was the tableau that greeted Ukyou upon exiting the café, her mind still reeling from what she had just learned inside. On any ordinary day she wouldn't be caught dead frequenting the Nekohanten—an accredited rival of Ucchan's—but this occasion was different: this concerned her Ranchan.

Earlier that morning she'd raced all the way here from the Tendo dojo, demanding to know just why her Ranma-honey, upon waking, had lost his mind and gone to see Shampoo's straightaway—what had her fiancé been _thinking_?—instead of mollifying her first; she'd practically worried herself sick over him, after all. Needless to say, she had discovered soon enough that the mandatory cat fight with Shampoo would have to be postponed today—the Chinese Amazon girl was all but dead to the world, and it appeared that her tour of La-La Land was going to be an extended one. Her symptoms were comparable to those of Ranma's and Mousse's: the outbreak of fever, lengthened slumber, and the manifestation of a perfect blue-green gem on her skin.

At any rate, the dramatic increase of magatama wearers had opened up a whole new economy-sized can of worms on the how the "Chosen-Born" clause actually worked. There were so many loopholes, so many questions, and all Ukyou could think was...

_Great. Now she and Ranchan get to have matching accessories._

So caught up was she in her cogitation that she bumped into and nearly tripped over the figure hunched over, ostensibly asleep, in front of the restaurant.

"Whoops! Sorry about tha—"

She didn't think anyone yanked out so abruptly from the arms of unconsciousness was capable of reacting that fast, but that assumption was refuted an instant later when the dozing form vanished, only to materialize at her back to lock her in a painful half nelson.

Her panicked mind scarcely had time to register the possibility of the Dynasty going on yet another kidnapping spree when the arms slackened, then released her. She stumbled forward, gasping, more than a little rattled by the suddenness of the assault.

"Ukyou! I—I'm sorry...I didn't see—I'm so sorry, I—"

The young chef's initial indignation at his maltreatment of her person abated somewhat with his stammered apologies. That didn't mean she was going to let him off easy, however.

"Can it, you big lug. You nearly took my head off, you know." Thus saying, she made a show of massaging her neck.

"I'm so very sorry, Ukyou-san." He switched tactics by reverting to formalities, hanging his head contritely as he sought her forgiveness.

It worked. Her stony façade melted, and she sighed. "It's all right, sugar. Care to tell me why you're acting nuttier than usual?"

Ryouga regarded her through his heavy tousle of bangs. "_Everyone's_ acting nuttier than usual, Ukyou," he pointed out in a monotone. "I'm just going with the flow."

"Point taken." Ukyou assessed him more closely. His pupils were cloudy with the last vestiges of sleep, his movements fluid and languorous, giving her the impression that his entire skeletal structure was on the verge of liquefying. "You're looking a little woozy there, Ryouga-hon. I think you better sit down."

He slumped gratefully back down, and the young chef crouched at his side, her expression one of wary curiosity.

"So," she began mildly. "Do you usually practice your death-grips on people who accidentally trip on you, or was I a special case?"

"N-no, that's not it!" The lost boy scrubbed at his lids with the heel of his palm. "You—it wasn't your fault. I was asleep, and when you touched me on my back, I thought you were her—" He stopped in mid-sentence, and his demeanor became guarded. "Forget it."

"Her?" pressed Ukyou.

"I said forget it. It's nothing."

The girl shook her head, undecided on whether to feel amused or annoyed. "Look, hon, this is me you're talking to. You _know_ I'm gonna find out eventually. So just save the both of us the trouble and 'fess up."

Ryouga turned toward her, the movement stippled with nervous nuance. Her insinuation had only provided his already fertile imagination with the needed fodder; Ukyou could see his fears churning in his wide green irises, and she smiled angelically at him. She knew she really shouldn't be torturing the poor boy like this, but damn if it wasn't fun doing so.

"Okay, okay," he grumbled. "I thought you were the Ranma-girl."

Ukyou shaped her mouth into a perfect 'o'. She'd expected him to name Tenkei or maybe even Cologne, but certainly not Ranma's now segregated and sentient cursed half. "Ranko? You attacked me because you thought I was Ranko?"

"Uhm, yeah."

"You're kidding." She drew in her toes as rainwater splashed down from the eaves of the Nekohanten.

"No." Ryouga buried his face in the cradle of his folded arms.

"Let me get this straight. You were about ready to decapitate me—"

"I was not." His voice came out muffled. "It was just a precautionary move."

"Whatever. Anyway, you tried out your precautionary death-move on me because you thought I was _Ranko_? Geez, I know you and Ranchan don't get along very well most of the time, but that's no reason for you to take it out on her—"

He cut her off sharply. "You don't understand! That Ranma-girl—she's not...right. There's just something...I don't trust her."

"Gee, I wouldn't have guessed," Ukyou commented sardonically. "But seriously, Ryouga, if it makes you feel any better, I'd say the feeling between you two's pretty much mutual."

The boy studied her intently, debating on whether he should confide in her about a certain red-haired loon and her disappearing light-saber. Okay, so the contingent back at the Tendo household hadn't bought the light-saber shtick—much less the idea of sweet, unassuming little Ranko running around performing neck amputations—but what about Ukyou? She could almost be classified as a friend. Plus, she _was_ fairly open-minded, and reasonable, and—

"Ryouga," Ukyou breathed.

"Hm?"

"Remember what I told you two nights ago?"

It was as through she'd pitched a pebble into his pool of thought, causing them all to scatter, and he tuned back in to her. "Uh...no?"

"Figures. All right, here's a memory check. If you're gonna creep me out by staring at me like that—you know, all dark and intense and stuff—just...don't, okay, sugar? You look like you're gonna propose."

This prompted an explosion of bright crimson underneath the lost boy's wind-tanned skin, and he glanced away abashed. "Sorry."

It took the _klop-klop_ of wooden clogs on the sidewalk across from them to alert Ukyou to the fact that she was dealing with a major lull in the conversation. She cleared her throat.

"So, um...I didn't see you sitting here when I first came over. Are you supposed to be the Nekohanten watchdog now, or do you actually have a good reason for staying out here all alone?"

Ryouga chuckled, a terse, caustic sound. "I'm out here for my _health_."

And, in truth, he was; all throughout Cologne's narration of the events that encompassed Mousse and Shampoo's recent "manifestations", the Ranma-girl had ogled him in a very unappetizing fashion, like he was a bug she wanted to squash underfoot. During the discussions that ensued he'd tried to immerse himself in the body of walking bliss that was Akane and ignore that penetrating, noxious blue stare, but even then it was no use. It didn't help, either, that she punctuated every other statement of hers with a jab directed toward him, or that every time he turned his back on her it felt as though she were sizing him up for cold cuts. His temper dangerously close to the boiling point, Ryouga had vacated the restaurant and planted himself out on front, finally surrendering to a restless slumber.

"Huh?" Ukyou surveyed her companion, looking thoroughly stumped.

"I just didn't want to stay in there with her any longer," he clarified.

Comprehension struck. "Oh, I see...that Ranko thing again."

"Yeah, yeah, the Ranko thing," grouched Ryouga. Irritated at the okonomiyaki chef's breezy dismissal of his misgivings regarding Ranma's less-than-stable girl-half, he decided to change the subject. "What're you doing out here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be surgically attached to Ranma's hip or something?"

She responded by tossing her hair reproachfully over her shoulder, causing the end of her long locks to clip Ryouga vengefully across the nose. "For your information, part of the reason I came out here's 'cause Ranchan and Akane're squabbling again."

The boy swabbed petulantly at the bridge of his nose. "I thought you liked seeing them squabble."

Ukyou offered a casual shrug, which indicated that it was anything but. "Well, not this time. They had this weird vibe going—I mean, it was obvious that they were quarreling, like they always do, you know, but at the same time, they weren't. Like they were actually being nice while they were doing it. I've never seen them that way before."

"_I_ have. Dozens of times," mumbled Ryouga. To this his brain attached a mental footnote: _While I was P-Chan._

"Well, I don't like it. Not one bit," fumed Ukyou, slamming her fist against her folded lap. "I bet Akane's just being nice to Ranchan because of this whole Chosen-Born business. She must've struck some kind of truce with him or something back at the dojo after he woke up. Well, weirder things've happened, right? Especially in the past couple of days."

He snorted. "That's an understatement."

The girl pursed her lips. "Yeah...now that you mention it, the last few days didn't exactly fit into the range of our everyday brand of weirdness, huh?"

"We have brands now for our different kinds of weirdness?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Yeah. I know." The lost boy looked up, his attention momentarily snagged by the brightly-colored vertical banners lining the entrance of the café, each one extolling the superior palatability of the Nekohanten's menu. "How're Shampoo and Mousse doing?"

"Snoozing like babies. Sick babies, actually. Their fevers're still high, but Cologne's mixing up all sorts of Chinese herbs for them. She says they'll won't be out as long as Ranchan was."

"That's good." Ryouga lowered his gaze to brood on this.

So Shampoo and Mousse had joined Ranma in the ranks of Chosen-Born, or whatever weird, overly dramatic label Tenkei had attached to them. Still, perhaps the term 'Chosen-Born' _was_ a fitting one; they were Chosen to have jewelry pop out of their skin and Born to defend the earth from all evil. Right.

What was it that the oracle had told them? Oh, right: whoever got the curse of Yasakami had to go find the Dynasty, defeat them on behalf of mankind, and live happily ever after.

It sounded so straightforward. So convenient.

And so very abstract, like a fairy tale in a grade-school storybook.

The plot was there, laid out all its step-by-step, cut-and-dried glory. But that was all it was: a framework. The whole Dynasty-Yasakami premise was like a skeleton—a crisscross of coincidences and connections without any metaphorical meat to bridge the gaps.

"I guess this means that Mousse and Shampoo're Chosen-Born, too, huh?"

"Hn?" Ryouga roused himself out of his woolgathering. "Um, yeah. They've got all the Chosen-Born qualifications: came into contact with the Yasakami water, got separated from their Jusenkyo froms and marked with those jewels. Same as Ranma. Which means that they'll probably have to go with him and look for a way to get rid of the Yasakami curse."

"Go where?"

He exhaled. That was just one of the many gaps he'd been pondering. "I don't know." There was a peculiar tilt to her question, and he watched her with half-lidded eyes. "Don't tell me you're going with them."

Ukyou started, astonished that the lost boy had correctly interpreted her intentions. "Uhm, well..."

"Do you even _know_ what kind of danger Ranma and Shampoo and Mousse could be walking into? You're crazy if you think you aren't going to run into the Dragon clan again when you're accompanying those so-called Chosen-Born on a trip to shut the Dynasty down permanently. Besides, it really is none of your business."

"Hey, that never stopped me—I mean, you—from interfering in anything before!" sputtered Ukyou. "Besides, since when're _you_ so concerned 'bout what my well-being, anyway? Ranchan's going, and it's my duty as his fiancée to accompany him." She pointed this out as though that were explanation enough.

"Hah. Why am I not surprised? Do you follow him when he goes to the boys' locker room, too?"

Her answering glare was frigid enough to make his teeth want to chatter from pure reflex. "Akane's going."

"_What_?" In that instant, the whole soporific nature of the conversation dissipated, and the lost boy's posture snapped up, ramrod-straight, as though a steel bar had been unceremoniously shoved down his spine. "But...b-but wh-whuh...why?"

"To keep an eye on Ranchan, what else?" retorted Ukyou, rolling her eyes at her companion's cluelessness. "The thing is, she's paranoid about Ranma-honey going off with me and Shampoo, so she decided to tag along."

Ryouga squeezed his eyes shut and balled his fists, feeling the usual river of denial coursing through him whenever he was confronted with the possibility that his beloved Akane might actually lo—have feelings for his rival. But the notion was too painful to bear further consideration, and so he chalked it up, as usual, to one of Akane's many admirable qualities.

"Oh, Akane...of _course_ she'd have to go with him. She's so caring and guileless that she might not even had a choice in the first place! She might've overlooked the fact that Ranma might be already preoccupied enough with you and Shampoo and being the Chosen-Born or whatever to be able to look after a hard-boiled egg, much less her..."

Ukyou peered at him out of the corners of her peripheral vision, recognizing with some satisfaction signs of the lost boy's inner struggle. "It really _is_ none of your business," she parroted for his benefit.

He whipped his head toward her, seemingly horrified at what she was implying. "But—but..."

"Look, if you decide you wanna expose yourself to danger along with the rest of us, what's your reason for that gonna be, huh? Ranchan's my reason, and face it, sugar—it isn't like you'd actually tell Akane that she's the reason you're coming along."

Her logic was incontestable—at least, to him it was—and his shoulders drooped in a crestfallen manner. "Y-you're right. It—it would be as if I were forcing myself on this trip..."

"Mm-hm."

"...making Akane think that she isn't capable of taking care of herself..."

"Uh-huh."

"...even though she needs someone to defend her honor and purity and innocence while that accursed Ranma's preoccupied with other things..."

"Right."

"...and even though the Dragon clan could come after her and spirit her away to God-knows-where and I'll never see her again—"

"I'll tell them you're coming along for the heck of it."

"Would you?" He stared at her, his face a billboard for hope.

"Of course. That'd fit in just perfectly with my plan!" she proclaimed, rubbing her hands not unlike some stereotypical mad business mogul. She sent a smirk in his direction. "That's one of the few things I like about you, Ryouga-hon. You're so predictable."

"Thanks...I think," he replied crossly, then paused. "Um, what plan?"

"Do you even have the slightest idea exactly _where_ Heaven is?"

Ranma did a double take at Cologne's brisk, bordering-slightly-on-the-metaphysical question. "Heaven? What does Heaven hafta do with this mess?"

Tilting her head to the side, the ancient Chinese Amazon uttered matter-of-factly, "That is where you will be heading, is it not?"

The pigtailed youth looked down at the futon beside him. Tendrils of lush periwinkle hair cascaded over the sides of the pillow, framing a face rosy with fever. Far from being peaceful, Shampoo's features were pinched and taut in repose, and Ranma wondered if she was currently in the grip of dreams that had been loosed by onset of the Yasakami curse.

"You are worried about Shampoo, son-in-law?"

Startled, and the youth wrenched his eyes back toward the Amazon matriarch. "Naw...yes. Of course I'm worried 'bout her. And Mousse, too." The gleeful half-smile that had been snaking across the old crone's countenance froze at that, and he added: "I mean, if Tenkei was tellin' the truth—and I ain't necessarily sayin' that she was—then me and Shampoo and Mousse just signed our souls over to the Dynasty. That's kinda a bad thing, ain't it?"

His attempt at levity hung grimly in the air for a moment or two.

At last Cologne spoke. "You can feel it, can't you? The siphoning of your soul. It's beginning, is it not?"

"I don't know what ya mean," the pigtailed boy said evasively, trying to ignore the resonating chord her words had struck inside of him.

"Oho, but I think you do." The old woman regarded him piercingly, as if she were trying to isolate the lie from the young man's psyche. "It is nothing now—hardly a nibble at the borders of your being. You probably won't even fully notice for a month. But as long as you have _that_..." She extended her staff and knocked the coiled end decisively against the magatama that garnished his forehead. "...the Dynasty will have a means to drain your soul right out of your body without laying a finger on you."

Ranma jerked his head out of her reach, appalled by the _clunk_ing noise the wooden stick had elicited from the object upon his brow. On impulse, he filched another glimpse of the sleeping girl, this time toward her exposed right shoulder. That was where Shampoo's magatama was—a curved slice of blue-green exquisiteness that was every bit as maddening and immutable as his own.

The torrent of guilt that swept through him was crippling, and Ranma hunkered down, dropping his head into his hands. "I never shoulda led them to that damned cave," he murmured. "The guy who showed me the way was one of the Shoryuu; I shoulda known it was a trap. But all I could think of was that I could finally be free of that Jusenkyo curse, and I was willin' to take any risk." He let out a short, self-effacing laugh. "Just didn't think the risk was gonna involve somethin' like _this_."

"You had no way of knowing. In a way, it is I who you should blame; had I not taken so long in consulting with the other Amazon elders, I would have been able to prevent you from seeking out the Yasakami cure." There was nothing condescending or reproachful in the old woman's tone; it was only a prosaic observation that needed to be said. "In fact, I might even be so bold as to say that if we are to take the oracle and the ancient writings of the Chinese Amazons at face value, then you might not have had any choice in the matter at all."

This only earned her a distinctly skeptical look from the pigtailed martial artist, and so she expanded with, "There have been many things that we, even as humans with our knowledge and tools, have never been quite been able to grasp. This is simply one of those things. If it has been maintained for centuries that there will be a Chosen-Born, then there will be a Chosen-Born, regardless of how that comes to be. It just so happens that you, Shampoo, and Mousse fit the requirements. Who are we, then, to say that this might have been avoided in the first place?"

"Are you sayin' this's _fate_?" Ranma interjected crisply, his brain reeling with the implications.

Cologne shook her head. "No. But it _is_ tempting to think of it that way, isn't it?"

He didn't get a chance to answer to that, because a moment later the bedroom entrance slid open, and in crept Akane and Ranko. A quick scan of the vicinity around their legs revealed, mercifully, that Neko had elected to keep Muu Muu-Chan company back at Mousse's garret quarters.

The Amazon matriarch addressed the girls. "How is he?"

Akane took a seat to the left of her fiancé, also right next to Shampoo's futon. "He's better. I think the fever's breaking."

"Yeah, he should be waking up soon," seconded Ranko, stepping in front of them to claim the space next to Cologne. As she did so, Ranma couldn't help fixating on the glittery pink-and-purple butterfly motif that had been embroidered over the rump pocket of her hip-hugging denim cutoffs. Surely those pants weren't hand-me-downs from Akane, because if they were, he should've noticed them before...

"I see the Kuonji girl has already left. But where is the Hibiki boy?" demanded the old crone.

"He went outside a while ago," volunteered Akane. "I guess he just needed some air. This Chosen-Born thing must really be bothering him; he's so sensitive, you know?"

Impulsively, Ranma caught the eye of the redhead sitting across from him, and was amused to see that Ranko looked as though she were suppressing her urge to gag, just as he was. He acknowledged her efforts with a wink; he knew _exactly_ what she was feeling.

"I see," was all Cologne said.

Her deadpan response only succeeded in inciting a sense of trepidation from the youngest Tendo daughter. "Why? Should...should I call him back in?" A dreadful thought occurred to her. "He's not in danger from the Dragon clan, is he?"

To her amazement, the old woman burst into a series of hearty chortles. "No, no...of course not. I was merely curious as to his whereabouts. I doubt that the Dragon clan would be interested in any of you now."

"Oh." Akane twisted her fingers together on her lap. "I'm...glad. I know you said they would leave us alone after the Yasakami cure, but I was still afraid that they—the clan, I mean—would be breathing down our necks for the rest of our lives."

The corner of Cologne's crinkled mouth quivered upwards. "Ah, yes...that. Four days ago, that was what you were all most concerned about, was it not? The assumption that the Dynasty would be shadowing you for all time?"

Ranma scratched the back of his neck. "Just four days? It felt like a lifetime ago."

"It does, doesn't it?" The crone rubbed her chin, a meditative gesture. "Four days ago, you got your first taste of the Dynasty when you were kidnapped—for no apparent reason other than the fact that you carried the Jusenkyo affliction—and—for a reason less known to us—they let you go. Three days ago you challenged the Dragon clan to a rematch, and they led you to a place where you believed you could find the cure to your dual-body curse. As a result of this so-called cure, you"—she inclined her staff toward Ranko—"were born."

Akane studied the redhead with a touch of wonder. Though Ranko had been with them for an eventful two days and two nights, she remained as much of an enigma as she had been when they had first laid eyes on her throttling Ryouga in the bath. It was because the girl resembled Ranma so much, at least in appearance, that it was all too easy for everyone to forget that she had entered their lives only three days ago.

"And two days ago, you arrived at the Tendo household, bringing with you the rest of the cursed forms, and everyone else had a visitor—an oracle of the Dynasty, no less—bringing a prophecy with her regarding what she referred to as the Chosen-Born. That is when son-in-law here"—she indicated Ranma next—"manifested his magatama. Yesterday, he awoke, and in the evening, before Shampoo and I could leave the Nekohanten to see him, Mousse collapsed and showed signs of also being a Chosen-Born. Then it was my great-granddaughter's turn." So saying, the Amazon elder gazed soberly at the slumbering figure of her great-granddaughter, swathed in thin cotton blankets. "Who, indeed, would have imagined that it would all turn out like this?"

_Who indeed?_ Ranma ran a hand through his hair, realizing for the first time how things had changed from that one crucial interruption of his history class, not even five days ago, when he'd spotted Cologne and Soun Tendo from his classroom window and realized that something was very wrong.

And from that morning on, everything had snowballed into something he doubted even he had any control over: now everything revolved around dragons, curses, dreams, yin-yang jewels, clans, and centuries-old kingdoms of half-gods that he had to defeat...

Until four days ago, his world had been so concrete, so unequivocal. Convoluted, maybe, but otherwise tolerable. And then the Dynasty had dipped its scaly fingers into his life, causing it to come crashing down around him even as he scampered around hysterically struggling to keep it intact.

Until three days ago, he had been a transsexual of the most convenient order—one gifted with the dubious talent of being able to walk that precarious tight-line between the genders, bouncing between each one as easily as one would flick a light switch on and off.

Until two days ago, Ranko didn't exist.

Until yesterday, he was just Ranma Saotome, sophomore student at Furinkan High, heir of the Anything-Goes Martial Arts, and the most proficient fighter in Nerima—and probably anywhere else.

Now he was Ranma Saotome, Chosen-Born, Yasakami-cursed, jewel freak, someone in danger of losing his soul unless he stood up to the Dynasty.

"So...where do we go from here?" ventured Akane, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.

Cologne contemplated this. "From here," she said at last, "we go to Heaven—Takamagahara. That is where the cure will be. Not to mention the Dynasty of the Dragon."

"But...but that's..." the Tendo girl hesitated, seemingly apprehensive about the magnitude of the journey they were about to undertake. "That's...um, how're we even supposed to begin searching for a place like that? If we don't even know where Heaven is, how're we supposed to know where Takamagahara is?"

The wrinkles etched across the old woman's forehead deepened as she mulled over this. "That is still the conundrum, I'm afraid. We shall have to pore over more of the old Amazon scrolls; perhaps there are clues as to where—"

"You won't find any clues. Not in those scrolls or anywhere else."

Ranma's abrupt declaration was met by three curious stares, and he blinked, looking for all the world as though he hadn't intended to say that out loud.

"And why is that, young man?" prodded Cologne.

He frowned down at the floor, then dragged a finger absently over the pattern of the grass mat. "Well...I ain't no expert in old writings or nothin', but I'm willin' to bet anythin' that you ain't gonna find any directions to get to where we're goin' to. If you actually found Heaven—or somethin' pretty close to it—you wouldn't come back and write 'bout it for other people to read. I mean, would you _want_ to come back?"

Akane opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came forth. What Ranma had said made too much sense, and the fact perturbed her. "Are you telling us that...we don't have any way of finding it?"

"Well...I didn't say _that_." Ranma looked up at her, and she was flabbergasted to see the edge of his lips curling subtly in a classic Saotome smirk. "We're gonna find it, Akane. I'm sure of it, 'cause I think I know how. And if I'm right, when Mousse and Shampoo wake up, they'll know, too."

"They will?" The shorthaired girl gaped at him, unable to latch onto whatever train of thought he had embarked upon. "What...what're you talking about?"

He didn't answer her right away; he'd been momentarily caught off-guard by the look in Ranko's eyes: the blue orbs were brimming with what seemed to be a sort of muted understanding, as though she already knew exactly what it was he was getting at.

"Do you remember," he began slowly, "back at the school, right after we fought those clan members out in front? They left one of their own, and when I talked to him, he showed me the way to the Cave of Yasakami by making me see the path to it in my mind. That's how I knew where to find it. Well, it's almost like the same thing here. I don't know how it works, not exactly—it ain't like I got a picture of it in my mind, like the cave—but what I _do_ know is that we're going to go wherever it is we've gotta go."

"How can you be so sure, Ranma?" persisted Akane. "How can you know?"

"That's 'cause I got the directions to Heaven, Akane." Ranma smiled—a brief, ironic smile—and gave the magatama on his forehead a meaningful tap. "They're right in here."

One of Ukyou Kuonji's most prized possessions, obviously, was the Über-Spatula she carried with her at almost all times. Her father had used to joke about her being born with the cooking utensil clutched in her hand, which might have been the case, since she couldn't remember a time when she had been without one. As a child, she'd toted a smaller, palm-sized model, but as she grew she laid claim to the one she used now: a keepsake of her dad's, it was of a make that seemed to be more for show than for actual cooking. Consequently, it was also the most useful possession she owned, ideal for disposing of cross-dressers disguised as mailboxes and potted plants, or for combating a certain purple-haired Chinese Amazon's pair of bonbori. And sometimes, it was just a handy thing to have around to wail the tar out of forgetful, dim-witted boys.

"You _jackass_! I spend the last couple of days telling you that I've got the break-up plan to end all break-up plans, and when I remind you of it, the best you can sputter out is ëwhat plan'? You sure you don't have a sieve in place of your brain, hon?"

Ryouga extracted his skull area from the broad end of her oversized utensil, resisting the urge to reduce the thing into scrap metal. "Did it ever occur to you that I might've been distracted by everything else that's been happening around here?"

"Details, details. Personally, I think you're just down to your last two brain cells or something."

"Yeah, well, that's because I think you just killed the rest of my brain cells with that damn spatula of yours!" snarled her would-be conspirator. "Besides, since you so obviously don't think that much of me, why do you even want me in this newest master plan of yours, anyway?"

"That's 'cause I've been thinking this through for a long while—even way before you stumbled back into Nerima—and I came to the conclusion that you, sugar, were my best shot at getting Akane away from Ranma. Because, for reasons totally beyond me, Akane tolerates you better than, say, Kuno or Gosunkugi."

"She does?" He sounded wary, excited, and disbelieving all at once. Then again, reflected Ukyou, that was Ryouga: the boy wore his emotions on his sleeve, trotted them out for all the world to see, and then acted all dumfounded when people used them to manipulate him.

Which, coincidentally, was exactly what she was doing right now.

Ukyou pushed the discomforting thought away. "Of course! I mean, when you guys came home after that cave thing, didn't she give you this great big hug in front of everyone and whisper in your ear..." She paused, her brow crinkling. "Hey, just what _was_ she whispering to you, anyway?"

"Um..."

She nudged him with her shoulder, her disposition suddenly tilting toward playful. "C'mon, you can tell me. I bet it was something romantic, wasn't it? Huh? Huh?"

He riveted his gaze on her then, and the unexpected, abyssal sadness she saw reflected there took her by surprise.

"She...she, uh, she said..." He trailed off and mumbled something incoherent.

"She said what?" In spite of herself, the young chef felt a surge of sympathy for the boy. He really _was_ pathetic, all sad-eyed and slouched over and twiddling his fingers like that...whatever it was Akane had told him, it must have been heartbreakingly, earth-shatteringly, stomach-turningly—

"She said thank you."

It took all her self-control not to face-fault. "And this was a _bad_ thing?"

His eyes grew even more despondent. "She said, ëThank you for bringing him home for me'."

"Huh? Who hi—oh." Ukyou affixed her gaze downwards, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Well, wasn't _that_ an eye-opener. Ryouga had come back from the jaunt at the Yasakami Cave with Ranma and the others, and had been greeted by Akane in a most enthusiastic manner. Naturally, everyone else had assumed that their intimate-looking exchange might have been of the romantic variety. Ranma had thought so. Hell, even Ukyou had thought so; she'd been quite thrilled at the whole display, convinced that this just proved what she'd suspected all along: if anyone had a chance of winning over Akane so that she stayed away from her Ranchan, it was Ryouga.

So it was quite the gyp to hear that the hug, the kiss on the cheek, and the whisper in the ear had been all for Ranma's benefit, not Ryouga's.

_Must've been crushing for the guy._

She stole a glance at Ryouga out of the corner of her eye.

_The poor dummy._

Before she could allow herself to expend any unnecessary compassion for Ryouga and the bleak terrain that was his love life, Ukyou hastily jammed a hand into her shirt pocket and withdrew an object. "Um, listen...I was gonna give this to you earlier, but, you know...I got sidetracked by the whole Shampoo and Mousse thing."

The boy raised his head, his misery giving way—at least temporarily—to curiosity as she tossed him something. Catching it nimbly in his hand, he spread his fingers to reveal a tiny white cardboard box emblazoned with fine print. He regarded it perplexedly for a span of three seconds before blurting out, "Uh...what's this?"

Ukyou huffed, irked that the significance of her little offering had flown completely over his head. "They're contact lenses, you idiot. You _do_ know what contact lenses are, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" shot back Ryouga, peeved by the fact that she persisted in her belief of his having the IQ of a yaki-soba noodle. "I've seen these around in my travels. But what the heck am I supposed to do with these? My eyesight doesn't need any correcting!"

The scowl she hurled his way told him in no uncertain terms that her opinion of his level of intelligence had just sunk from yaki-soba noodle to a grain of sand. "I didn't get 'em for your eyesight, sugar. They're colored contacts. Specifically, they're blue-colored contacts—Ranchan's eye color."

Ryouga stared at her, aghast. "You got me contacts with that jerk's eye color—" He trailed off as he saw her exasperation, then dropped his gaze back to the package in his hand. Ukyou could almost swear she could see the metaphorical light bulb go on over his head. "Does this have anything to do with that plan you were talking about back in the dojo? Is that what this's about?"

"No, I was thinking that I could wear one on my left eye and you could wear one on your right eye and we could freak everyone out," Ukyou retorted, her tone saturated with more than a little bit of sarcasm. "Of course it's part of the plan! In fact, _you_ were the one who gave me the idea for this, remember?"

He frantically tried to think back to their conversation two nights before, but the best he could come up with were recollections of himself trying to tell Ukyou about his observations vis-à-vis a certain dragon-lady, only to end up snarling at her when she'd begun insulting his purportedly creepy green eyes and burbling about how pretty Ranma's own eyes were, and then she'd suddenly exclaimed that he was a genius and that his input had just given her the finishing touch to her plan—

Uh-oh.

"Wait—you said something about practice," he murmured slowly.

She smiled, peeking up at him from under a fringe of thick tapering lashes, and this incited within him a colossal impulse to either jump up and flee out into the pouring streets, or stay and invite death by coronary.

"Well," drawled Ukyou, "I figured that we might need some brushing up on our wooing skills since...well, face it, sugar—they haven't been all that effective in the past. So when you said that thing about how if only you had eyes that were more like Ranchan's, I thought: hey, there's an idea—you could try winning Akane's heart by practicing to be like Ranchan..."

The boy's eyes bugged out alarmingly. "You mean...you want me...to practice being like _Ranma_?"

"Hypothetically speaking...yeah." She promptly launched into her spiel before he could protest. "Ryouga, this trip could be just the thing we need to separate those two! I know, I know—this trip's supposed to be grueling and dangerous, and God knows what could happen along the way. But that's the point, you see, 'cause it's gonna be hell on them; it's gonna test their emotions, make them frustrated, and they'll be sure to be sniping at each other even more than before...and that's where we come in." She gestured animatedly as she spoke; there was no stopping her now. "And this time around, we are not going to be the same weak-willed, wishy-washy idiots they're used to—no, wait, that's just you..."

Ryouga smoldered.

Ukyou went on. "Nope, this time it's to be different. This time, you're not going to be as depressing or tongue-tied or pathetic—"

"Is there a point to all this?" he growled.

She didn't miss a beat. "—because you are going to take a few pointers from Ranma."

"You're not serious," gasped the boy, but even as the words left his mouth he knew she was.

"Why not?"

"Because I—I refuse to look like Ranma!" His treacherous mind sketched a mental picture of himself with a pigtail, blue contacts, and trussed up in one of his rival's oh-so-fashionable orange Chinese shirts, complete with a little ruby bowtie...

He choked down on the bile bubbling up in his throat.

Ukyou emitted a small, impatient sound. "Look, I don't think you quite understand what I'm telling you. This could be our best chance to have the ones we want! This could be it, Ryouga! You could make Akane notice you by showing her that you _can_ be charming and confident and...and...almost decent-looking...once you have some of Ranchan's style. I mean, what've you got to lose?"

"My pride," countered Ryouga, but she could tell that he was weakening.

"I always thought Akane kinda liked Ranchan," she drawled slyly, pretending not to notice the flush of antagonism her little statement had evoked from her companion. "Even if she _does_ hit him a lot and call him names. So there's gotta be something he's doing right—don't ya agree, hon?"

"Like what? He's an egomaniac!" he pointed out angrily.

"At least he's got self-esteem!"

"He's a pervert!"

"Oh, and I suppose this's because he doesn't get paralyzed or get a nosebleed every time he's near a girl?"

"But...but...you're asking me to _be_ like him, for God's sake! That's insane!"

"That's genius!" she argued.

"That'll never happen!"

"That'll get you Akane!"

"That—"

He promptly forgot what he was going to say; the cogs in his mind were already spinning toward a different direction.

Could it be that he could really and truly have Akane, and all he had to do was be more like Ranma? Ukyou certainly seemed to think so. The notion was both tantalizing and revolting: tantalizing because this was Akane they were talking about, and revolting because this was also Ranma they were talking about as well. And if it did succeed, he speculated, it wouldn't really be him who had won her affections.

But then again, if he could adopt some of the pigtailed boy's more charming—Ryouga blanched—traits while maintaining his own, the task might almost be bearable. And besides, he had done far worse things for Akane's sake, such as eating her cooking...

"I'll do it," he said finally, trying to shove away that sensation of impending doom. But before his companion could rejoice in her easy little victory, he added: "On one condition."

The elation promptly withdrew from the girl's features. "What's that?"

"You practice being more like Akane."

She looked at him as though he had just agreed to her sarcastic suggestion that they each wear half of the pair of contacts. "Have you lost your last two brain cells? Why would I want to be more like that—that uncute, bad-tempered—"

"There're lots of guys who'd disagree with that description," Ryouga told her through gritted teeth. "Including me."

"But she...she's so violent!"

"And _you_ have an oversized spatula and I have these lumps on my head after a couple of minutes of sitting here with you. What's your point?"

"She's a tomboy!"

"At least I don't forget that she's a girl, which is more than I can say for _you_!"

He'd been itching to pay her back for all those unflattering comments she'd assailed him with earlier—and for the past few days, it had seemed—and this had been the perfect opportunity to do so. But he hadn't meant to sound so callous, he really hadn't, but telling her that was a lost cause; judging from the look in her eyes, he had just signed his death certificate.

"Why you...how dare you forget that I'm a..."

The Über-Spatula appeared in her hands, almost magically, and Ryouga, choosing to utilize the escape option the males of Nerima tended to neglect when confronted with incensed females, fled out into the street, cardboard box still in hand.

Ukyou vaulted after him, weapon swinging vigorously. She was faster than he, no doubt there, but her speed was nothing compared to Ranma's.

And any speed lesser than Ranma's, Ryouga could handle.

He dodged over two swipes and leaped over a third, and when she came at him with a fourth he evaded it, but his hair had acquired the distracting habit of flopping wetly into his eyes and his clothes were suddenly acquiring a dampness that had nothing to do with perspiration and damn it all, _he had forgotten that it was still raining..._

He froze, his brain recoiling even as it braced itself for the change: spouting a snout and hoofs where there had been a nose and hands and feet, his insides shrinking and realigning themselves, his now-oversized tunic descending upon him like a swathe of heavy canvas, his entire range of sight narrowing down to a world of sidewalks and ponderous human feet.

A semi-second later the realization that he no longer suffered from the Jusenkyo curse sandbagged him in the face, and his body relaxed. A few days of being cured were embarrassingly easy to forget when one had undergone a year of transforming at any contact with cold water.

But now he was standing there in the torrent with an uplifted face, and there were rivers of cold water meandering down his face and throat, down his limbs and fingers. He'd almost forgotten how that felt like, not having to wriggle his way out from under his oversized, waterlogged clothes, having water dripping down fingers and not hooves, down a neck bare of his bandanna, and the sensation was so strange and so alien and so utterly wonderful—

CLANG

His view of the cloudless, pouring sky was suddenly, and rather rudely, obscured by steel: Ukyou's battle spatula, which had taken advantage of his unexpected state of rapture to apply itself liberally to his scalp.

"What the..." Ukyou removed the cooking instrument, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement. One moment he was dancing away from her, eluding her blows, and the next he'd just stopped, standing right there with his eyes closed in the middle of the street like an idiot. "What the heck d'you think you're doing, you moron?"

Ryouga oscillated slowly to face her. To her surprise, his mouth was stretched out to an almost-smile, and his pupils were glazed over with some potent emotion. She might have been tempted to identify it as happiness—except that was out of question, because, after all, this was Ryouga she was looking at.

"I almost forgot," he said softly.

"Huh?" Ukyou gawked at the lost boy, wondering not for the first time on the precarious status of those last two brain cells.

He gestured vaguely at his surroundings. "This. The..." His voice trailed off, his entire thinking process grinding to a halt so suddenly that he was sure she could hear the squealing of his mental wheels. "...concrete. Er, yeah—concrete. Haven't traveled over a paved street for a while. Feels great, heh."

Ukyou's left eyebrow climbed up and disappeared behind her bluntly cut fringe. "Ryouga...you are officially the weirdest boy I have ever met."

"Officially, huh?" Then again, maybe there was an upside to her thinking of him as nothing but an empty-headed buffoon: he could skip around her in a black piglet costume and have the word "P-Chan" hovering over his head in flashing neon lights, and she would just shrug it off as one of the many side-effects of a mind that was not-quite-there.

"Officially." She passed her hand over her brows and flicked off the moisture it had collected. "Oh, great, now you made me forget what I was—oh, yeah..." Her tone darkened as the spatula in her hand began to ascend, a promise of much pain to come.

Ryouga waved his hands frenetically in front of his face. "Okay, look, I'm sorry about that comment I made. I've been sorry the moment it came out of my mouth. Just hear me out for a second. You said we were partners in this, right? So if I have to practice to be more like Ranma—" He paused to shudder. "—you have to put in the same effort by trying to be more like Akane."

"You mean you want me to cut my hair short, wear dark contacts, girly skirts, swim like a rock, make radioactive okonomiyaki, and start beating Ranma up at every little thing?" countered Ukyou scornfully.

"Yes! I mean...no! I mean..." He rubbed his knuckles over his waterlogged eyes; his adrenaline burst was fading fast, and his lack of sleep was catching up with him. "For one thing, Akane doesn't beat Ranma up at every little thing. You only see that one side of her because it suits you. She can be warm and nice and understanding, even to Ranma. She's...something else. I know that. And Ranma knows that. Think about it, Ukyou: if she really is as bad as you think she is, then why hasn't Ranma turned his back on her yet? Whenever she's in trouble, why does he always go rescue her if she's so horrible?"

The young chef lowered her weapon. "I..." she faltered. Maybe Akane was blackmailing Ranchan into staying with her. Maybe she'd cooked up something that had altered his brain chemistry, and now he was drawn only to bad-tempered tomboys wielding disappearing mallets.

_Or maybe,_ Ukyou thought faintly, _he actually likes—likes—_

"I'm not saying that you should cut your hair short or anything like that," Ryouga went on, sensing that her resistance was buckling. "You could try to be a little more ladylike..."

"Are you saying I'm _not_?"

"Not if you keep talking like a boy, wearing men's clothes, and binding your...your...you know." He carefully anchored his gaze to a point somewhere above her head as he nonchalantly plugged up his nose. Being with Akari had accustomed him to the female elements somewhat, but sometimes it was better to be safe than sorry. "And you could try being a little less sarcastic..."

"What I do with my chest is none of your business!" Ukyou seethed, instinctively draping her arms over the objects in discussion.

"...and try not to be so clingy..."

"I am _not_ clingy! You're probably thinking of Shampoo, the purple-haired leech!"

"Look, if you're so damned perfect already, then why isn't Ranma with you?" Ryouga pointed out forcefully.

Ukyou didn't know her jaw was unhinged until she felt raindrops pitter-pattering inside her mouth. She snapped it shut as her brain analyzed Ryouga's argument, and was horrified to realize that it actually made sense. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if she did change herself a bit—besides, if was going to be for Ranchan's benefit, wouldn't it be worth it?

Sighing, she threw back her shoulders and offered out her hand. "Okay. I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I'll try your advice. But you gotta do the same with my idea."

Ryouga hesitated only for a second before transferring the box of contacts to his left hand and grasping her own slippery hand with his right one, sealing their dubious partnership. "Deal." When he tried to pull back his hand, though, she held on.

"Ryouga." She raised her eyes from their joined hands and peered up closely at him. "I'm willing to totally commit myself to this. There's no turning back, sugar. You gotta promise me that you're gonna be in this with me all the way."

He had never seen Ukyou look so solemn before, even back during all those times they'd agreed to cooperate to break up the dynamic duo. She really did believe this break-up plan was the be-all and end-all of all break-up plans, and she was willing to throw herself fully to it; all she wanted was some sort of confirmation from him that he would do the same. It wasn't like he was vowing lifetime commitment to her or anything—besides, if it would give him a chance with Akane, wouldn't it be worth it?

"Okay," he said fervently. "I will."

"Promise me, Ryouga." Her teal eyes glittered fiercely from behind the shadow of her dripping hair.

"I promise."

"Partners 'till the end."

" 'Till the end," he repeated, more to placate her than anything else, and chose not to think about how final the words sounded.

" 'Till the end," she echoed after him softly, as if she couldn't think of anything else to say.

There was a brief pause as they regarded each other with utmost gravity and blinked the rainwater out of their eyes. Then Ukyou hastily withdrew her hand from his, seemingly satisfied with his pledge of alliance. Her attitude underwent a rapid about-face as she beamed at him, tucking her arms behind her back and rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet.

"So!" She clapped her hands together, her tone chirpy and businesslike. "It's settled! We are going to work at this, and we're going to be so irresistible and charming that the two of them won't even know what the hell hit them! We can't fail, Ryouga!"

She spoke so confidently that even Ryouga, eternal pessimist that he was, felt as though a ray of sunshine had broken through the gray clouds of his existence. A tentative smile tugged at his mouth as she prattled on.

"All right, then. Have you got the contacts? Good. I promised that guy at the eye clinic a half-year's discount at Ucchan's if he gave me these for free, so you better take good care of them, buster. Yeesh, I guess this means I gotta increase that discount if I'm gonna have to get some darker contacts for myself. Oh, well, it's a worthy cause, right? Okay...what else..." She evaluated the lost boy thoughtfully, her gaze coming to a rest on the swath of yellow wound around his forehead. "That's it!"

"What's it?" he asked nervously; she was eyeballing his bandanna the way a snake would eyeball a mouse.

"Sorry, hon, but if you're gonna work at being more like Ranchan, that bandanna of yours's gonna have to go." Without preamble, she reached up, presumably to yank it off.

Ryouga reared back and away from her eager hands, wearing an expression of utter alarm as he clutched protectively at his bandanna. "H-hey! I'm not taking this off, plan or no plan!"

"Don't be such a ninny! It's just a piece of cloth!" snapped Ukyou, attempting another grab at it. "How are you supposed to become the new, improved, slightly better-looking Ryouga if you're gonna insist on wearing that ratty old thing?"

He dodged her attempt. "It's not just a ratty old thing to me! It's my bandanna! I never take it off!"

"Never? Why the hell not? Are you hiding something under there?" She looked suspicious. "What is it? Warts? An unnatural skin color? A third eye?"

"No!" Ryouga shook his head irritably. "Of course not! It's just that...it's a part of me. I've had it ever since I was a baby."

"Let me get this straight: your parents tied a cloth around your head when you were a bald little infant?" Ukyou muttered. "Geez, no wonder. Your brain's been squeezed."

"You know what I mean! I've had this thing for as long as I can remember."

"What's the big deal? Don't you have a hundred of those things?"

"Well, yeah, but this one—the one that always stays on my head—is the original. It's family heirloom. It's been passed down my family for generations, and I'm not going to let it go! You're just going to have to find a way to make me a new, improved, slightly better-looking Ryouga with it on!"

"Yeah, right!" she retorted, diving at him yet again. "You said you were gonna give this plan your all, didn't you? Now, c'mon! Take it off! Take it _off_ already, you big baby—!"

Had the place been anywhere other than Nerima, the scene would have been a bizarre one: a boy and girl capering about in circles, apparently oblivious to the drizzle. The boy appeared to be trying to ward off the girl, while she in turn pawed at him while repetitively shrieking the words "Take it off!" in varying inflections of exasperation and urgency.

But this was Nerima, and, as such, the passers-by, all well schooled on the etiquette for any such local peculiarity, discreetly altered their routes as they walked by so that they maintained a good ten feet or so from the couple. There was no sense taking risks, after all.

Nonetheless, the sight, as typically odd as it was, was hard to ignore by the surrounding general public, and Akari Unryuu was no exception.

"Ryouga-sama?"

The two of them froze at the sudden intrusion. Akari trotted over, taking in the sight of Ryouga, who had bent back his upper torso so that it was in a nearly perfect ninety-degree angle, and Ukyou, who had bent her own torso forward so that it was positioned parallel to his own.

"What are you doing?" she queried, deeply befuddled.

"A-akari!" Ryouga shot out from under Ukyou with impressive alacrity, causing the former to wobble from the whoosh of displaced air. "What are you doing here?"

"I left school early to help Grandfather with the moving arrangements, and later he suggested that I go see you. But you weren't at Ranma's house, and Akane's father said that you went over to the Nekohanten, so here I am." Akari looked from one to the other. She recognized the taller girl—Ukyou, her name was—from the gatherings at the Tendo Dojo. Though she didn't know Ukyou very well, she liked her well enough, even though the latter was slightly high-strung and seemed to be frequently commandeering Ryouga's attention. Nevertheless, it was really none of her business now, she chastised herself; Akane was the one he had his heart set on. But apparently that hadn't stopped Ukyou from hanging around him.

Like now.

Akari hesitated, then ventured again, "Um...what _are_ you doing?"

"Nothing," Ukyou answered at the same time Ryouga said, "She's trying to take my bandanna."

The other girl looked even more lost. "She's trying to take your bandanna, Ryouga-sama?"

"Yes," replied Ryouga, while simultaneously Ukyou snapped, "No!"

They stared each other down for a moment, before Ukyou hissed vehemently, "You jackass, do you want everyone to know about our plan?"

"Not everyone, Ukyou," he told her calmly. "It's just Akari. I trust her."

"What? Are you unbalanced? What'd she think if she found out her boyfriend was making plans to win another girl?"

"_Ex_-boyfriend," Ryouga and Akari corrected her in unison. They exchanged awkward, almost bashful glances.

"Ex-boyfriend," Ryouga reasserted softly. "Ex."

"That's right." A trace of sadness wafted by the girl's features, but was gone the next moment. "We broke up a little while ago."

_Though the way they're acting, one would think otherwise,_ Ukyou thought in annoyance as she observed the blushing ex-couple. _Bleargh._

"I, uh, agreed to help Ukyou try and win Ranma if she, um, helped me with, you know, Akane," Ryouga explained haltingly to Akari, sounding rightfully embarrassed.

"Ah," Akari said. "No potions, no tricks, no magical items, haunted caves, or mind-control?"

"No. Um, we're going to try to, uh, improve ourselves instead, and win them without resorting to those things," he reassured her, rubbing the back of his head.

"That's good."

"Yeah." He saw the heart-shaped outline of her face blur, then refocus. Sleep deprivation was apparently taking its toll.

"Good luck, Ryouga-sama."

"Thanks."

Ukyou decided now was the time to interrupt their little tête-à-tête. "Ahem. This's all very nice and well, but this's supposed to be only between me and Ryouga here." She regarded Akari meaningfully. "You'd be surprised how fast word travels around here. You better not breathe a word about this to anyone else, sister."

Akari nodded earnestly. "I won't." She looked askance at the lost boy, who was pressing his palm against the front of his drenched tunic. "Ryouga-sama, are you okay? You really shouldn't be out in the rain like this! You're going to catch your death of cold!"

"I know, I know." Ryouga managed a lopsided smile for her. "But it's been a long time since...you know."

"Yes..." Akari smiled back, comprehending. "I know."

"What, that it's his first time in a long while on a paved street?" Ukyou shifted uncomfortably; she was getting that third-wheel sensation. "Geez, you guys are freaking me out. I've never seen ex-couples act so...so darned nice toward each other. Are you _sure_ you two've really broken up?"

Akari obviously couldn't grasp the concept of parting with Ryouga just because they had agreed not to see each other romantically anymore. "Just because we've broken up doesn't mean we can't be friends," she said.

Ukyou eyed her with some suspicion. "You still have a thing for him." Which was all fine and dandy by her, thank you very much, but that little detail could affect Ryouga's performance in her grand scheme. She needed him wholly devoted to Akane, and not be distracted by his ex-girlfriend, who still harbored feelings for him.

"Um...I care about him still, very much." Akari was coloring again. "Ah, why're you asking me all these questions? Do _you_ have a thing for—"

"What? No! Of course not!" cried Ukyou, throwing her arms up with considerable emphasis. "It's nothing like that!" What _was _it with these kinds of interrogations regarding her and that jackass?

"Then what were you doing to him when I arrived?" Akari wanted to know. She didn't sound peevish or skeptical, just genuinely baffled.

"I—I—well, Ryouga told you—I was trying to take his bandanna."

"As a memento?"

"_No_! It's—it's hard to explain! I..."

Evidently the two of them had elected to forget that the object of their discussion was standing only a few feet away, but for once Ryouga was glad to stand on the sidelines. There was a ghost of a headache prowling at the back of his head, anyway, and he was starting to feel rather lightheaded. Come to think of it, the gleaming-wet sidewalk was beginning to look very tempting...

"...seriously, sugar, I wouldn't go for that jackass even if I'd been force-fed a barrelful of passion spice and love pills and locked with him in a closet with flattering lighting. Hey, is the jackass tilting?"

"Ryouga-sama!"

Two pairs of arms streaked out to steady him as he pitched forward. He quickly caught himself and straightened, blinking rapidly. "Uh, sorry. I'm fine. I must've dozed off...haven't gotten that much sleep lately..."

Warning bells went off in Ukyou's brain as she saw the flush on his skin that had nothing to do with his character toward the fairer sex. She'd seen that look before on Ranchan two nights ago. And on Mousse, not even a half-hour earlier. And on Shampoo as she lay on that kitchen floor...

"Uh-oh," she whispered.

"You've got a slight temperature, Ryouga-sama," Akari was informing him. "You need to get out of the rain." She turned to Ukyou, and noticed the anxiety on the other girl's face. "Ukyou? Is something wrong?"

Instead of responding, Ukyou snatched up Ryouga's hands and searched them, dreading what she might find. To her surprise, they were clean.

"Ukyou?"

The young chef thrust Ryouga's right arm toward the bewildered girl. "Here, hold him steady, okay?" she muttered, then proceeded to roll up the long sleeves of his tunic.

"What are you—"

Ukyou turned the bared arm around and over, but found nothing on his shoulder or anywhere else. A subsequent check of his left arm proved equally fruitless.

_Wait a minute,_ she thought. _Maybe on his _other _limbs..._

Akari goggled as Ukyou dropped to her knees and began to fuss with the crisscross-patterned straps of his pant legs.

"Grrr...stupid unnecessarily complicated leg straps..."

"Ukyou," Akari began, "surely you don't think that he—"

Ryouga finally gained enough coherence to sense that he was being subjected to a rather odd frisking, and that there was something was agitatedly yanking at his leg. He looked down. "What are you _doing_?"

Ukyou stopped and gazed up at him, seized by memory. "Wait a minute..." Ignoring his yelp of protest, she grabbed his head, brushed his damp bangs from his brow, and, with more than a bit of apprehension, tugged down the front of the bandanna.

And stared.

"Can you let go of my head now?" groused Ryouga.

She released him, managing to appear flustered, apologetic, and defiant all at once. "Sorry. Uhm...your forehead really _is_ normal after all, huh?"

"Of course it is!" he roared, then regretted it as his headache amplified with a vengeance. "What did you _think_ it was like?"

"Er...I thought there'd be warts. Or some discoloration."

"What the heck do you think I am, some kind of mutant?" He winced. "I think I need to go take a nap now. My head's killing me."

Akari took his hand and steered him under her umbrella, safely out of the pneumonia-causing downpour. "Grandfather and I are temporarily staying at a hotel not far from here. You can take a nap there for a while if you want, Ryouga-sama. Come on, I'll guide you there."

"Thanks, Akari. If your grandfather doesn't mind..."

"Don't be silly! He'll be glad to have you over."

Ukyou meanwhile stood discreetly off to the side, chewing at her lower lip. Okay, so she had overreacted a little. In retrospect it was ridiculous to think that _Ryouga_ of all people had a chance of manifesting a magatama, wasn't it? After all, he hadn't had the Jusenkyo curse, and therefore hadn't touched the Yasakami water, right? On the other hand, maybe he'd come into contact with it accidentally; she wouldn't put that scenario past the bumbling idiot. But that didn't mean that he would automatically acquire the curse of Yasakami, did it? Like Tenkei had told them, the risk was fifty-fifty...

"Ryouga-hon, are you sure you're all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine. I just need an aspirin and some sleep, that's all." His eyes were screwed tightly shut, presumably in an attempt to ease the throbbing.

"Oh. Okay." Ukyou nodded tentatively. Even though he was a little warm and was acting all woozy, he wasn't keeling over or screaming in pain—and she hadn't found a magatama on him. "Um...look, you guys are gonna be okay, right? I feel kinda bad about this..."

"Thank you, but we'll be fine," Akari reassured her. "We're going now. We'll see you around soon, okay, Ukyou?"

"Yeah. Sure," replied Ukyou. "You too."

She watched as the couple—whoops, ex-couple—departed, and was struck by the sudden impulse to yell, "Remember, Ryouga, the _plan_!" after the lost boy. The next moment she shook her head at the absurdity of it and jogged off toward the nearest shelter, unable to refrain from darting a quick glance behind her.

Across the street, Akari held on to Ryouga's arm as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, not noticing the soggy cardboard box he clutched tremblingly to his chest.

"...and did I tell you, I got the most exquisite pair of panties yesterday! Made of the finest silk with lace lining, and the smell—simply heavenly! Too bad it belonged to that Ichinose woman. That's right—the one with the legs like tree trunks. But you can't be picky nowadays. Still, you'd think something that frilly and delicate would belong to some sweet young thing, but no...come to think of it, no wonder those panties were so elastic..."

Happosai chattered away happily as he positioned the kettle of water over the crackling fire. Keeping him company was his old friend Lukosai, who lay on a makeshift futon on the floor next to the dining table.

"...in fact, it's a downright miracle it's stayed a size six. Well, that's what happens when the underwear's top-quality, eh? I'm thinking of having it framed..."

He trailed off as he realized that Lukosai had still not said anything. The creases in his brow deepening even more, he left the kettle to boil and ambled over to his motionless friend.

Lukosai was breathing, slowly and steadily, in the manner of one immersed in the deepest of slumbers. All in all, his condition was unchanged from two hours earlier, when Happosai had stumbled upon him somewhere in the forest environs of the city.

The former had been sprawled in a clearing, completely cataleptic, his traveling pack resting on its side about twenty yards off. Judging from the condition of the rice balls that had been had stored inside, Happosai deduced that they had remained there for two weeks, if not more.

Without preamble, the master of the Anything-Goes Martial Arts had carted his friend and his belongings to an abandoned decrepit shack some distance away, wherein he had then proceeded to poke at his pressure points, feed him an assortment of petrification remedies, and bellow into both his ears.

But no matter what he had tried, Lukosai had not wakened.

At present Happosai had resorted to telling him of his latest panty raid, hoping to rouse the old geezer from his strange catatonia. Lukosai had never let an underwear story go by without one of his patented commentaries. This time around, however, the old man stayed mute.

In desperation, Happosai dangling his freshly stolen silk undergarments not four inches from the recumbent man's nose, risking the chance of the latter suddenly coming to life, snatching up the prize and making off with it.

His fears proved unfounded, however, and Lukosai continued to sleep the sleep of the damned.

By this time the kettle was steaming, and Happosai allowed his wake-up efforts a temporary reprieve to set out into the forest outside and gather tea leaves while he combed his brain for any other methods he could try on his old friend.

He was mulling over the rather tempting option of tossing Lukosai into female-Ranma's chest—preferably while she was in the bath—to incite him out of his coma-like condition, when he became aware of a presence behind him.

"Hello there...ha...ha...hot-cha-cha-chaaa..."

The stranger was a girl with flowing, near-colorless hair—save for the splotch of bright blue in her crown and long blue earlocks—pulled up in a high ponytail and sultry ruby eyes. She was dressed in an armor-like ensemble with a voluminous cape, and her sleeves, shoulder plates, arm plates, lower tunic, and knee coverings were festooned with a greenish dragon-scale pattern. She was looking down at him from atop a low branch of a nearby tree, her back against the trunk and her arms crossed over her chest.

Her appearance was certainly strange, even by Neriman standards, but she was attractive and nicely curved, and that was all that mattered to Happosai. He smoothed back the nonexistent strands of hair on top of his head and leered at her in what he hoped was his most fetching manner. "Fancy meeting a lovely lass like you in these parts. Any particular reason as to why you're spying on me?"

The girl frowned, her pink-lipped mouth twisting in disdain, but all she but all she said was, "You are from Nerima?"

Happosai put down the tea leaves, appraising her carefully. Perhaps this was one of Ranma's many acquaintances, out to kill him or marry him. In any case, she looked like a lot of fun waiting to happen. "Yes, I certainly am."

"You know of a Ranma Saotome?"

It figured. "Yes—as a matter of fact, he happens to be a pupil of mine. We both live in the same house; I'd be honored to escort you there, if you want..." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She leaped down from the branch and landed in front of him. The tips of her ears were pointed, Happosai noted, and he smothered the tickle of warning in his brain.

"No thank you," she replied equably. "But I have a message I would like you to take to him."

"Why, I'd be happy to, sweetums. And since I'm being nice to you by doing this, I'm sure you won't begrudge a poor old man like me the warmth of your gratitude, eh?"

Without waiting for a reply, he promptly launched himself at her mammary area.

He was an inch or so from his desired targets when she plucked him out of mid-air with a speed that was downright unnatural, then used him to reduce a line of trees into kindling.

"Pervert! I have had enough of people obsessed with my breasts!" she shrieked.

Happosai popped out of the Happosai-shaped depression he'd made on the trunk of the farthest tree and sank to the ground, his eyes in little whirls. A couple of seconds later he bounced back to his feet, his uncanny resilience setting in. "Aw, don't be so coy..."

He broke off as he saw that the girl had been joined by a second figure: an aloof-looking young man who seemed to be an exact carbon copy of her, down to the unusual two-toned hair and pointed ears. Twins, perhaps, brother and sister? Happosai wondered briefly, then discarded the idea. Something told him that was not the case here.

"What happened?" the boy demanded of the girl, his icy gaze fixed on Happosai's diminutive form as he spoke.

"He jumped at me and tried to grab these," the girl explained heatedly, shoving her chest out and under his nose.

The boy reddened considerably and spun toward Happosai, his countenance a mix of embarrassment and fury. His voice was cold and deceivingly placid as he addressed the old master. "How _dare_ you try to assault innocent girls! Have you no shame?"

"Listen, sonny, I take my jollies where I can get 'em," Happosai shot back. "Besides, she wanted me to do a favor for her and all I wanted in return was a little happy time cradled in the hospitality of her lovely round...er, arms."

"Enough!" The boy strode over, cape billowing impressively behind him. His scarlet eyes snapped fire. "Men like you who have no consideration for the feelings of women don't deserve to live. You have just made a grave mistake, old man."

"Yeesh! Who made _you_ the defender of women's rights, sonny?" Nevertheless, Happosai readied himself, though to him the boy appeared to be nothing but a pushover in a fancy warrior-wannabe costume. "Oh, I get it. Showing off in front of the lady, eh? Nice one, m'boy, very clever. But I think you're the one who's making a grave mistake."

One of the corners of the boy's lips tilted upward, an almost-smile. "We'll see about that," he said, and lunged forward.

Happosai easily vaulted over him and ricocheted off the back of his neck, using his foe's momentum to send him hurtling uncontrollably toward a small copse of pines.

"Well, that was easy." He turned his back on his dispatched adversary and bounded eagerly for the girl. "And to the victors go the spoils! Come to Hap—_urk_"

He was abruptly cut off as the boy's fist connected solidly with the back of his cranium. While he had been drooling over the girl, the young man had twisted in mid-air and used his feet to rebound off a tree trunk, reversing his trajectory right toward the old pervert's head.

Happosai shot clear across the meadow, dislodging grass and saplings as he went. As soon as his field of vision stopped wavering, he got up and rubbed gingerly at the throbbing, purplish-red lump that protruded from his skull. "Ow, that hurt!" he whined.

It _did_ hurt—though his pride smarted more than the swelling. Okay, so the boy wasn't that much of a pushover, then. So he was faster than he'd anticipated; that was something the old master could counter. If he could find a way past Ranma Saotome's speed, then he could do the same with this youngster.

"That's it! You've gotten in my way too many times, sonny! This time, the gloves are off!" A corona of angry dark light burst from his body, lending a reddish tint to neighboring foliage. His two-foot-tall frame seemed to swell dramatically, and he glowered down at his foe. "Happo Battle Aura Blast!"

A substantial quantity of his battle aura blazed toward the boy, who merely lifted his own arm toward the blast and countered the formidable energy attack with one of his own.

Crimson and gold light clashed in a spectacular panorama; the collision of the two opposing kis resulted in an explosion that easily leveled the nearest surrounding trees and sent a wall of soil, grass, and fusillade unfurling outwards in a stinging salvo.

Happosai had managed to escape the shockwave by ascending a tall, sturdy pine not far from the battle site. He hooked himself onto a high branch and gawped at the mounds of upturned earth and charred greenery down below.

"Hmm...a ki-master, eh? That blast of his was strong enough to cancel out my own," he marveled, somewhat absently. A further inspection of the smoking devastation below revealed no trace of his opponent. "Eh. Too bad. He must've been blown away by the explosion..."

"That's what _you_ think, old man!" a voice snarled out from behind him, and before Happosai could fully turn around, something hot and burning struck his stomach, ribs, and lower spine. A split-second later something pummeled into his back, knocking him off the branch he was on and propelling him straight down.

He hit the ground face first, tasting dirt and razed grass as he plowed a half-mile long furrow across the glade.

Pain erupted from where he had been hit as he spat out the contents of his mouth and heaved himself up. The boy touched down some yards in front of him, calm as you please and utterly unruffled.

Happosai wobbled to his feet. He could barely believe that this was happening: here he was, the founder and master of the prestigious Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts, bruised and battered at the feet of a young upstart of questionable fashion sense. Happosai himself was far from a lightweight in the martial arts arena, but the boy was faster than even Happosai's reflexes, and his ki projectiles were potent enough to cause the old man actual pain. It was as if the young man's battle pace was operating on a plane far above Happosai's own.

He was jarred from his contemplation by the sudden appearance of two more individuals on the field. The one closest to him was a boy, just a little younger than the one in the dragon-scale armor, sporting a sword strapped to his back and a fur mantle with wolf-like ears and a bushy tail on his head. The second boy was taller, broad-shouldered, and muscular, clad in an outfit with a prevalent tiger-skin motif. Their ears were tapered at the tips as well, and their eyes shared the same animal-like quality as the couple with the two-toned hair.

It was then that Happosai finally realized whom he was up against.

"Heheh...well, this's been a lot of fun, but I'm afraid I have to go," he cackled, reaching into his robes and withdrawing dozens of objects with lightning speed. "Look sharp, boys—Happo Daikirin!"

The air was filled with the sound of crackling fuses as Happosai unleashed one of his trademark attacks—a deluge of fuse bombs—upon the startled youths.

The bombs were scarcely airborne when the girl arced her arm toward the incoming barrage. "_Hito Ryu-zan_!"

A torrent of blade-like ki streaked outwards, each blade slashing into a bomb and detonating it harmlessly in mid-air. Those without targets went on to slice off tree limbs and the tops of several outlying knolls.

Happosai gaped at the granite-hued cloud not far above him, a grim testimony to his deflected assault. "What the—"

He didn't notice the huge hand that had clamped over his skull until he felt himself being hauled upwards, and paid for his negligence when he was slammed face down with tremendous force into the ground.

As endurance went, the old lecher was at the top of his league. He'd been pounded by fists, feet, elbows, tables, giant spatulas, two-thousand-pound umbrellas, giant octopus tentacles, and the gods knew what else, but none of those had ever been enough to keep him down for long. It was this resiliency that prompted people to make conjectures on whether the old master really was human, or some immortal oni who had crawled out from his cave to wreak his personal style of perversion upon a helpless mankind.

If that was the case, Happosai reflected dazedly as he fought to keep his brain from spilling out of his ears, then mankind wasn't as helpless it was once was.

He rolled onto his back. His vision was darkening, and his mind rebelled against this realization. He couldn't pass out now! Not him, not the great nigh-eternal, nigh-invulnerable Happosai, he who had survived a Hiryuu Shouten Ha, explosive-filled caves, lovesick octopi, three days without feminine danties to sustain him...

Through the haziness descending over his senses, he saw the fuzzy silhouettes of his attackers looming over him, and heard the girl's honeyed voice calling out to him as though coming from a great height.

"Can you still hear me, old man? Good. You tell Ranma and his friends that they owe us a rematch."

Happosai quivered reflexively toward her soothing tones, desperate for her to invigorate him, to replenish his energy as only sweet young female voluptuousness could, but the best he could do was a feeble little lurch in her direction. All he needed was a touch, a touch of something soft and bouncy...

"I thought I told you to leave my breasts _alone_!"

For a split-second he thought that he had succeeded in getting a grip on the source of his power, but his fingers snagged only thin air.

His well-honed ears dimly picked up the sounds of female retribution upon the guilty party. Someone else had beaten him to his goal, he realized.

Not that he blamed them. The girl really was a looker. A bit exotic, what with her hair and ears, but a looker nonetheless.

_Lucky would've liked her,_ he thought with foggy amusement, and then passed out.

_End of __Chapter__Thirteen_

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Eh, so there was a lot of Ukyou-and-Ryouga plotting in this one. Again, I did try to trim down their conversation, but I needed to do that without discarding the essential bits. Don't worry, though: the next chapter spotlights the inhabitants of the Tendo Dojo and their changing interpersonal relationships. Till next time...

Thanks again for reading,  
Sydney Kyle

C117'S NOTES:

So, now I've finally uploaded all thirteen chapters of Sydney Kyles fan-fiction. It's a pity that he never finished it. Maybe I should finish it…? Nah, that would just be a disgrace to the original fan-fiction… and to Sydney Kyle. Right…?

C117


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